Eye of the Storm
by Sorii
Summary: Shirley hated Ace the moment his body hit the deck of the Moby Dick. But, after certain situations, she begins to question her sanity... and her feelings for the new recruit. AceOC
1. Chapter I

_Eye of the Storm  
Chapter I_

"...Oi. Marco. What did you say his name was again?" Shirley muttered to the Commander of the 1st Division.

"Ace," He grunted in response. "Portgas D. Ace."

Shirley scoffed. "Sounds like a weak name," She commented. The pair stared down at the barely-adult boy, his yellow t-shirt wide open and unconscious on one of their medical bay beds. On the table next to him was a peculiar-looking orange hat with red beads circling the rim, a pair of blue evil-looking happy and sad faces sitting next to each other on the front. Sporting disheveled and unruly shoulder-length black hair and freckles dotted across his young face, Shirley had to admit he had a certain charm to him. "How many times has he tried to kill Pops again? Was it ninety?"

"More than a hundred," Marco said. "Once before Pops took him in, and I've lost count of how many times since, eh."

"What an idiot," She muttered before walking out of the sick bay and onto the deck. It was a pleasant day; the sun shone warmly on her exposed arms and legs, and she stretched her arms like a cat before leaning on the railing. She wasn't alone for long, though, for Thatch soon followed suit beside her.

"So what about that new kid, hm?" He nudged the Commander of the 2nd Division lightly. Thatch, Commander of the 4th Division, stood more than a head taller than Shirley. His auburn hair was made up in a pompadour style and he wore a light blue uniform reminiscent to that of a chef's, with the pants falling down to mid-calf and a black belt tied loosely around his waist. A thin black beard framed his chin and a stitched scar faintly outlined his left eye in a half-moon fashion.

Shirley shrugged. "What is there to think about?" She replied curtly. "He's a brat, that's it. Doesn't know his place, does he? We've already taken him _and _his crew – what else is there to do before he finally caves in?"

Thatch paused for a second before responding. "Well, he's got some pride, I'll give him that," He stated before drumming his fingers on the wooden railing. "His crew's still getting adjusted to us Whitebeard pirates, but it seems that they're mostly fine. It's just the captain we gotta work on."

"As if that'll happen anytime soon," Shirley muttered darkly. The last time she'd tried being friendly to Ace, it had ended up with the teen back in the doctor's office and Shirley with a large wad of spit on her left cheek, furious and blood pressure raised. All in all, it had not been a very pretty sight.

Thatch laughed jovially, clapping a large hand to her back. "Give him some time," He smiled. "I'm sure he'll come around eventually. Anyway, I gotta get back now – promised Gil I'd help him with dinner tonight." Shirley waved her hand off, dismissing him.

"Yeah, yeah," She called as he began to walk off. The woman was just about to reach into her back pocket to grab a cigarette when Marco came jogging up to her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"New kid's awake," He said frankly. "Wanna go see him?" Shirley's expression darkened.

"And have him spit on my face again?" She retorted. She placed the stick between her lips and lit it with a silver lighter from her pocket. "No thanks."

Marco frowned. "Come on, give him another chance Shirls! I'm gonna try and talk to him one more time."

"You do that," She said idly. "While I stay here safe and sound from spitballs. Oh, and stop calling me that. It's a disgusting nickname."

He smirked. "I never pegged you for the weak type, Shirley."

Her eye twitched. "Who said I was _weak_?" She hissed. Her pride insulted, she tossed the barely-used cigarette into the ocean. "Come on, Marco," She growled, cracking her knuckles. "It's time to give this kid a _talk._"

-x-

He was staring up at the ceiling when Marco and Shirley re-entered the room. He didn't even bother to look up when they stood beside his bed.

"Oi, kid. Look at me." She commanded. Ace didn't mean to, but his eyes trailed instinctively to the origin of the voice. Messy coffee hair was tied hastily into a bun at the base of her neck, and she wore a simple red tank top and black shorts. A sword was strapped to her left hip, and she wore a pair of worn white sneakers that had seen better days. The thing he noticed the most, however, were her eyes. Startling green, they were bright and piercing. Flecks of brown could be seen in the orbs if he looked closely, but when he realized he was staring, he quickly looked away.

Marco sighed, scratching the back of his head. "This is gonna be harder than I thought," He muttered to Shirley, who merely rolled her eyes.

"Thanks for realizing that _now_, genius," She said tartly. Drawing up a chair from a nearby desk, she turned it backwards and sat down, leaning her arms on the top rail. Her eyes trailed back to his face, where he stubbornly looked up. "So." She began. "_So._

_ "_You've been here for a good five months, kid. And you haven't gotten even close to scratching Pops. So what do you propose you do now?" Shirley demanded.

"Don't butt in," Ace replied quietly. "I have no vendetta against you, just your captain. I don't want to have to get into a fight with you."

"As if you could even beat me," She scoffed. "Trust me, kid, if you know what's good for you, you'd lay low. Hell, even your crew has accepted their fate! It's not that bad here, really." She said, trailing off at the end.

Marco nodded. "Pops... he took us in when we had nothing else, eh. He didn't care about our pasts, or who our fathers were, or if we were weak or strong. He only cared about _us_, who we are to _him._ To Pops, we're his kids and he's our father, eh." He looked at Shirley, who gave him a questioning look, silently prompting her to continue. She scowled.

"I... well, when I joined, I was... about, I don't know, 18? 19? Pretty young. Around your age," Shirley started reluctantly, averting her eyes. "I wasn't in the best of shape when Pops found me; just barely escaped some bandits. The only thing I had on me was a few hundred belis and Dreamweaver," When Ace gave her a confused look, she elaborated, "My sword. I'd finally left home. My parents have been long dead, and I was... well, whatever, you don't need to know," She hastily cut herself off. "The point is, I was weak and naïve when Pops came into my life. And you know what? He didn't care that I could barely defend myself, or where I came from. He just accepted me."

Ace didn't reply. By now, he had turned on his side so that his back was facing the two Commanders. Shirley, though, was rather ticked that he chose to ignore her rather than say have some sort of reaction to her little anecdote. Twitching, she fought to contain her anger; she'd just poured out (most) of her life story to his kid who she didn't even know, who'd tried to kill her father on more than _several _occasions, and he had to gall to just look away!

Marco sighed, then grunted before making a move to exit the infirmary. "Well," He started by sighing, "can't say we didn't try. Let's go, Shirley. Clearly, he's not one to be swayed." The 2nd Division Commander, fuming, silently followed him out. In the end, though, she not-so-kindly slammed the door behind her, causing it to rattle in its frame.

"That... that... _brat!_" She burst out, letting out a frustrated scream and childishly stomping her foot on the floor. "Did you see that, Marco? He barely even looked at us! Hell, I bet he was even sleeping! What nerve!" Taking deep breaths, Shirley eventually managed to calm down, and turned to face her crewmember. "If you need me, I'm gonna be taking a nap in my room. Wake me when it's time for dinner." And with that, she strode swiftly down the hall.

-_end of chapter I._

A/N: Hello to new readers, and welcome back to old readers! Thank you for reading the first chapter of _Eye of the Storm_ :) I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review of what you think! It's been a long time since I've written anything, so I apologize if this isn't up to par... I just wanted something that would follow the canon storyline more closely.


	2. Chapter II

A/N : Sorii here again! Hey guys! Not sure if anyone is really reading this, but this chapter is pretty lengthy... so enjoy!

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_Eye of the Storm  
Chapter II_

"Oi! Shirley! Get your lazy ass up! We're havin' a feast tonight!" Marco yelled, pushing the moaning pirate off her bed. She gingerly rubbed the back of her head, sitting up from her spot on the floor, her ever-present scowl on her face.

"What for?" Shirley grumbled, sitting Indian-style and glaring at the Commander of the First Division. "We have a feast every day. What makes this so different? I'll go down when I feel like it."

"New crew member," Marco said simply. "While you were knocked out, that kid took the test and passed the old man's standards."

"WHAT?" Shirley screamed, jumping up. "He... w-... h-... What?" She said, at a loss for words. The only thing that ran through her mind was _What the hell_.

"Yeah. Now come on, or all the food'll be gone," Marco said, leaving the room. Shirley stood there numbly, absorbing the shock that another man of D had crossed her path yet again. It was too much. Those men of D...

"Shirley!" Marco shouted again impatiently, waiting at her door. "Hurry up, Captain's calling for you."

"Oh... yeah, yeah, okay, I'm coming," Shirley called, jogging after him. _I wonder what surprises this guy'll bring,_ she thought to herself bitterly.

–

"Ha ha ha!" Marco's drunken laughter rang in her ears annoyingly. "Shiiirrrllleyyy! What took you so damn long, girl?!" He shouted raucously, sliding an arm around her shoulders. Shirley's eye twitched as a vein stood out clearly on her forehead.

"Five minutes into the _party_ and you're drunk _already?_" She asked in angry disbelief. To think, he was the Commander of the First Division!

"Ha ha ha ha! Well that doesn't matter right now! Come, come! All the grog'll be gone if you don't hurry!" Marco insisted, yanking on her unyielding arm. He had a goofy grin on his face and his cheeks were tinted a light pink.

"Ugh, whatever," Shirley grumbled, forcefully pulling her arm away in disgust. "Only for the grog..." But it seemed someone had beaten her to it. And taken her special seat, on top of that.

Ace leaned against the starboard side of the ship, laughing and grinning with the other crew members with a mug of beer in hand. He hadn't sensed Shirley coming, with her dissatisfaction rolling off her in waves.

What. The. Fuck. He couldn't _seriously_ be in _her_ spot, right? Shirley glared at the newcomer with a dislike equal to an evil witch's boiling up inside her, threatening to blow up. It was _her_ spot! _Her_ grog! _Her_ drinking buddies! And, this, this, _this, _BOY comes along and just... _takes it all?!_

She hated him. She _hated_ him.

And there was _no_ way she was going to tolerate this shit.

So she did something about it.

Balling her hands into fists, she put on a fake smile and stomped over to the group. It was now that the crew members began to notice, whispering amongst themselves nervously.

One whimpered.

Ace, however, still laughed and chatted like nothing was wrong.

As Shirley approached them, they grew silent. Dead silent.

But Ace kept on grinning and drinking, as if he didn't have a care in the world.

"Hello, boys," Shirley greeted with a wave. Some cringed away while some of their knees shook.

Ace looked up from his grog grinning. "Hey yourself."

She started off blunt. "I see you're in my spot." She pointed at where he stood. He merely gave her an innocent look.

"Who, me?" He asked with fake astonishment.

Shirley scowled. "Don't play dumb with me, kid. Now get out."

Ace stood up and ambled over to her. _Not drunk,_ she noticed. _Still perfectly sober after so many drinks?_ He came until he stopped right in front of her, smirking when he had to stoop down to meet her eye level. "And what if I don't want to?" He murmured seductively.

Shirley fought off the heat that threatened to bloom in her face as she shoved his head away from hers. "Fucker," She cursed, flicking him off. "You wanna start something, punk?" She growled, her right hand immediately at the hilt of her sword lying on her left hip.

"Hey, hey," Ace said, putting his hands up in defense. "I don't fight girls." A glint of silver and a rush of cool wind was felt before Ace realized that the edge of her unsheathed sword was positioned at the base of his throat. He smirked. "Or not," He recanted playfully.

Shirley leapt back, her eyes dark and narrowed as they began to circle one another slowly. Ace had out a dagger in his right hand, holding it out so that it was horizontal with the edge facing him, his left hand keeping his hat on securely. She almost scoffed. At a time like this, worrying about his hat? It was small idiotic things like that that got people killed in battle.

A crowd had formed around the two, forming a ring of sorts. Among the spectators were (a now sober) Marco, as well as Whitebeard himself. Ace sported a cocky grin and the first move was made.

He took a step to the left before lunging forward with the dagger, which Shirley blocked rather easily. _He doesn't have a strategy,_ Shirley mused to herself. _He's relying on his brute strength._

It was true. Although it was a simple frontal assault, the only thing that kept her from deflecting it right off the bat was the amount of pressure being put into the attack. Shirley used her left hand to help push against the blunt side of her sword so that she could skid away from Ace. The hells of her boots dug into the floorboards of the ship as she painstakingly came to a stop.

"Not bad for a newbie, kid," She called. "But not good enough!" Letting out a cry, she gripped Dreamweaver with both her hands and sprinted towards Ace, raising it above her head to land a strike. Ace dodged, stepping to the side as he thrust his dagger towards Shirley's side in one swift motion. Too close to dodge in time, Shirley gritted her teeth as she felt the sharp steel pierce the left side of her abdomen, tearing the flesh and feeling the blood ooze down her skin.

Shirley did a one-handed backflip back, landing in a crouched position, Dreamweaver in her left while her right staunched the bleeding dripping from her left side. She glared at Ace as a tiny trickle of blood made its way down from the corner of her mouth. She spat out a mixture of saliva and blood with no regard to her surroundings, all the while keeping her gaze locked on her adversary. "You'll pay for that, kid," She threatened.

Shirley got back on her feet fairly quickly, her right hand keeping a firm grip on Dreamweaver. Ace smirked. "Sure. I like a challenge." He replied, crouching over slightly, almost in a feral-like position. The left side of her lip twinged. It reminded her... of _him_.

"Bring it on kid," She said in a soft voice, entrancing and enticing him. She, too, got into a ready position. With the way she was holding herself, one would have never suspected that she was wounded at all. She wiped the blood away from her mouth, leaving a small smear where it once was.

"It ends now."

Ace narrowed his eyes, watching as Shirley exhaled slowly, bringing the tip of her sword down. Her left hand clutched the hilt of her sword atop her right hand, and her dark chocolate tresses fell from behind her ears to her face, obscuring her eyes, casting an almost mysterious glow upon her entire outlook. It became deathly quiet, and still; not a person dared to move, it was so intimidating.

Suddenly her eyes shot open, staring straight at Ace, as if looking straight into his soul. The golden hazel orbs bore into him, drilling into his mind and body, as if mocking him. Ace was taken aback, least to say—he would never admit that he was afraid of a woman! So, bracing himself, he gave a slightly shaken grin and dug his heels into the deck.

"_Half-Moon,_" She murmured softly, more to herself than anyone else. "_Slice._"

In a blink of an eye the sword had traveled from the deck to the sky, in a half-circle motion. Ace felt a cool, strong gust of wind before he realized that she had assaulted him. He braced himself, noticing it too late to dodge it, crossing his arms in front of his face. A sheen of blindingly bright white light obscured his vision as he squinted, trying to get his bearings on the ordeal. It was then he felt a great pressure put upon his entire body. No, pressure wasn't the right word. It was more like... the blade of a sword.

She had sliced through the air with her sword.

_Shit!_ The realization dawned on him a moment too late as the impact slammed against him full throttle, spiraling his body backwards, skidding across the desk of the ship. A painful _CRASH_ was heard as he landed, presumably unconscious. Meanwhile, across the desk, Shirley had a smug expression on her face as she sheathed Dreamweaver with a satisfied _shing_.

"Serves you right, _kid._" She teased, adding emphasis on the _kid_. Shirley looked remarkably well, considering the wound on her side, which continued to bleed as if it were still a fresh injury. However, she still seemed _very_ happy.

Caught up in her own giddiness, she failed to notice a figure spring from the smoke, headed right at her.

Shirley turned around just in time to see Ace emerge from the debris injured, but alive, with his arms criss-crossed against his chest, a pointed dagger in each hand. With barely a second to spare, she redrew Dreamweaver at the speed of lightning and just barely blocked the daggers that Ace threw in midair.

_Shit_, she cursed. _So the newbie's a little better than I thought. So what... Wait._ Shirley looked around, panicking slightly. _Where did he--_

"Gotcha!" Came his boastful cry as he burst from below deck and swung his leg out, tripping her. Shirley let out a startled shriek as she landed on her behind, her sword clattering beside her. Her heart pounded furiously in her chest as she tried to calm down, scrambling around for her sword. As she reached a hand out to grab the hilt, though, a dagger pressed against her throat as an annoyingly familiar voice whispered in her ear, "I win."

"Wrong," Shirley whispered back as she shot her hand out and swiped her sword with cat-like reflexes the moment he let his guard down. This time, she held Dreamweaver at the base of his neck, digging shallowly into his flesh. "You don't win until your opponent is either dead or incapacitated." Ace frowned. He didn't like when he was outwitted.

Slowly, cautiously, Shirley withdrew Dreamweaver as he, too, removed his dagger. "It's a draw, then," Shirley announced as they separated from each other.

"I guess so," He replied casually, putting that irksome grin back on his face. Shirley scowled. Not even a day into knowing his kid and already she hated him. Especially that stupid smile. One day she would wipe that smirk right off his face, even if it was the last thing she did. She swore to herself.

"So," Shirley said in a bored tone. "What now?" She placed the blunt side of her sword on her right shoulder. She pressed her lips together in a thin line, waiting. An awkward silenced ensued, draping over the ship like a thick fog.

"Well..." Marco started uneasily. "Captain wanted to see you--"

"Oh! Right!" Shirley interrupted, looking as if she had made a great discovery. She bumped her right fist into her left palm, still holding Dreamweaver, which was pointed dangerously at Ace ("Don'tpointthatstickatme!"). "Captain!" The female pirate exclaimed, "You needed something?"

Quietly, in the corner, Marco scoffed. "Her only loyalty lies with the cap'n," He muttered to Ace. "She hates everyone of us 'cept for him. No one really knows why. Maybe it's cause she's the only female fighter, but damn, does she hold her place. There isn't a man who doesn't respect her here on the _Moby Dick_. Oh and by the way, there's something you should know..." He whispered something into Ace's ear something inaudible to the people around, and Ace's grin only grew wider.

To the side, Edward Newgate shifted his beady little eyes towards her as she sat in his oversized chair with the IV drips connected to his arms. "Yes," he boomed, his face expressionless. Meanwhile, Ace looked on with a smirk.

"Shirley," Whitebeard continued. "I've decided that Portgas D. Ace will temporarily share your room until further notice."

A silence followed so quiet that one could hear the whistle of the wind whipping through the sails. Not one person dared to move nor breathe.

"As the Commander of the 2nd Division of the Whitebeard Pirates, it is your duty to welcome and greet any new son of mine who joins," He confirmed, narrowing his eyes slightly to form a light glare.

"Bullshit." Shirley retorted, folding her arms in front of her chest.

A murmur erupted amongst the underlings; "How could she do that?" "What if she gets demoted? Maybe I could become the 2nd Division Commander!" "God, I always knew women were bad omens on the sea."

She pursed her lips after hearing the squabble behind her, obviously pissed. "I'm not taking this kid into my room. Why the hell should I? I mean, I may be a pirate, but that doesn't mean I've lost my dignity!"

Marco snickered off the side. "I thought you already lost your dignity."

Her cheeks flushed light pink. Shirley stuttered, "S-shut up! That's not true! I mean, well—um—why can't it just be Marco?!" She finished desperately.

"Because," Marco stated matter-of-factly. "It's _because_ I'm the Commander of the _1__st_ Division. You're Commander of the _2__nd_."

"ARGH!" Shirley exploded, throwing her hands up in the air. "Fine. Whatever! But the kid sleeps on the floor." With that said, the furious pirate stormed off to her private quarters. The crowd of pirates watched with tentative eyes as Shirley disappeared downstairs, still muttering incoherently.

Quiet.

"...Well. That went... badly." Marco noted rather awkwardly, breaking the ice. Looking around he found Ace leaning over the side of the ship, back at his original spot before the brawl broke out—also Shirley's spot. By now everyone had calmed down and the jovial feel had come back. As the Commander of the 1st Division made his way over the new recruit, he began to talk. "So, Ace, hope you weren't too stunned. I would've told you earlier but the cap'n kinda made the decision on the spot. I mean, I was pretty surprised myself. Normally he makes new guys sleep in the barracks with everyone else, or, even on the very rare occasion, lets them stay in my quarters. But Shirley? Man, he's just asking for a storm. And damn it all to hell if she can't raise one." When he received no reply within the next few seconds, he raised an eyebrow. "Kid?"

Marco put a hand on his shoulder, pulling him around and coming face-to-face with a sleeping Ace, complete with drool dribbling down the side of his mouth and soft snoring.

–

Shirley slammed the poor door behind her so hard it quivered in its frame like a cowering puppy. In a rage, she threw Dreamweaver against the western wall of the room, where it hit a bookcase filled with documents and picture frames. The sword clattered noisily against the floor, followed by the various books and shattered glass from the frames. She didn't even bother to see which ones had been broken.

Shirley was absolutely seething. She was seeing red. Hell, she was so mad, she swore she could have snapped Dreamweaver with her own bare hands!

At some point, she'd managed to navigate herself over to one of the two window sin her room. Shirley gratefully pressed her burning and perspiring forehead against the cool glass, reveling in how it had the power to alleviate her stress with nothing but its gentle touch.

She sighed, now becoming aware of the throbbing pain in her side from the kid's stab wound. With a grunt, she forcefully pulled herself away from the sanctity of her window over to the adjacent wall, where a Cedar closet stood, its doors made of glass that shoved her pissed off reflection glaring right back at her.

With a strength rivaled by a rampaging tiger, Shirley threw open the door, letting it slam against the wall behind it as she grabbed bandages and some alcohol. Steadily, she made her way back to her bed—too lazy to close the door—and carefully, slowly, tenderly, began to peel off her sweat and blood-soaked white tank top off.

She was barely halfway done when the door burst open with an annoyed Marco and a snoring Ace.

"Geez kid, what the hell are you, a horse?! I find you asleep on your feet and no matter what I do you won't wake up! Hey Shirley, mind if I dump him--" Marco cut himself off when he looked up ahead and spotted the half-naked Shirley looking like she was ready to shove Dreamweaver down someone's throat.

Marco gulped, tugging at the collar of his shirt with his free hand. With a forced smile, he said, "He-ey, nice body you got there girl. It's too bad you don't show it more--"

"Get. Out. **NOW.**" Shirley practically screamed. No man had ever seen her so naked, so exposed; she sure as hell wasn't going to start now.

"I said, GET OUT. As in, NOW. Or would you prefer to be castrated by my dear Dreamweaver?" Shirley shot at them darkly, giving them the look that said 'leave now or you won't see the sun rise tomorrow.'

Apparently he got the message because he scrambled backwards and shut the door as soon as he was out of range.

Only he forgot one thing.

A big, snoring, drooling, scratching-his-butt thing.

Portgas D. Ace laid on the floor of Dartmouth P. Shirley's room, knocked out.

She twitched.

Slowly, she exhaled, letting the frustration out, although her face was giving away how she was truly feeling.

Shirley stood up and walked over to where Ace laid, crouching down and scrutinizing him over with squinted eyes. Just as she reached forward to throw his body out of her room--

Ace's eyes shot open.

With a startled yelp the experienced pirate jumped back at the sight, leaving him to gaze dumbly around his surroundings.

Finally, his eyes landed on her. A slightly perverted grin spread across his face. "Nice view."

The reaction was immediate—her rock-hard fist collided with he left side of his face, throwing him a few feet away. Ace groaned as he gently touched where she had punched him. His fingers came back wet and sticky, crimson staining them. She'd hit him so hard he bled. Heh. Well... his jaw _did_ hurt, after all.

Shirley wasted no time as she forcefully pulled down the bottom of her shirt to cover her abdomen while simultaneously pulling the top up to hide her chest. For a moment she had forgotten about the wound, anger polluting her mind.

Until a sharp pain and a scarlet flower blooming on her white top brought her back to reality.

Ace watched curiously as she struggled as to what she should do next; bandage her wound by lifting up her shirt, or risk letting it continue to bleed. He supposed that she didn't let the injury hurt her pride. Then he came to a startling revelation.

"...Is that the wound I gave you?" He asked. It was a simple question that had a simple answer.

Shirley rolled her eyes and sneered, "Naw, Sherlock, I just so happened to stab myself in the side with my sword because I'm suicidal." Ace bristled. He didn't like when she shot back with such offensive, sarcastic, remarks.

"Why hasn't it closed up yet? That fight must've been more than two hours ago," Ace insisted. His eyes were glued to the red spot quickly growing in size on her shirt. What the hell! This didn't make any sense! People were supposed to stop bleeding, and it was such a small wound!

"Don't you think I know that?" She snapped, glaring haughtily at him like an exhausted princess forced to marry an ugly foreign prince.

"Maybe you should go to the doctor."

"I don't need to!" She retorted hotly. This brat was really getting on her nerves! "I have everything I need right here!"

"Then let me help."

Shirley whipped her head over to face Ace, shocked. The force and determination in his voice seemed almost suffocating in this trivial argument. She opened her mouth to say something but closed it just as quick, speechless. Even without a response, he walked over to her briskly and reached for the bandages first.

"No!" Shirley cried, grabbing his wrist so tightly her knuckles were turning white. "Um, well, I mean, y-you need to crush up these leaves first," She stammered awkwardly. "I-I have hemophilia, and the herbs help stop the bleeding," Shirley explained. Ugh! Why was she clarifying this for the kid? She could damn well dress her wound herself!

"Ah," Ace nodded understandingly. "That makes sense. But then why become a pirate?" He picked up the leaves and began crushing them in his hand, which the pirate wrinkled her nose at in disgust.

"What does it matter to you?" She huffed, wincing slightly as Ace gently peeled her shirt away from the injury; it stuck fast to her like a second skin, damp from the blood and sweat. "It was my own decision." Shirley let out a quiet hiss as he pressed the juices of the herbs against the bloody mess. "Take it away for a second," She commanded. "I have to clean it up first." Agonizingly, she took an off-white towel form her right side and began to dab at the immediate area around it, wiping the caked blood off her skin. As soon as she finished, Ace reapplied the medicinal leaves, holding it firmly against her skin as Shirley uncoiled the roll of bandages and began to wrap them tightly around her stomach. An involuntary blush crept up her face as she realized that the kid's hand was warm.

Not that she would ever admit it, of course.

If Ace saw, he didn't say anything.

As sh completed her task, she saw that his hand remained on his waist. "Um--"

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry." Ace immediately withdrew his hand, looking away subconsciously. "Yeah, well, I'll... go now. You should change." And with that he cleared his throat and excused himself from the room.

Shirley frowned. Well, whatever. Not like she really cared all that much. She strode over to her closet and pulled out a pale green long-sleeve shirt, discarding her blood-caked tank. She pulled it over her head, careful not to strain the newly bandaged wound.

Pausing to feel the bandages, the senior pirate thought about the last time that someone had shown her kindness. A warm, fluttering feeling arose in her heart, filling up her entire body with a nice, tingling sensation.

She sighed, shaking the memory away. That was a story best left for another time.

Shirley stretched, yawning as her bones popped from their sockets. She slipped off her black jean shorts and swapped them for green flannel pants with white polka-dots. After that, she crawled back onto her bed and snuggled into the warm blankets.

–

"So kid, how'd it go?" Marco said, clapping the newest member on the back. "Looks like she didn't hurt you too bad, 'cept for that bruise on your cheek. You're lucky; she's done a helluva lost worse to other guys."

"Ah," Ace responded. He wasn't really paying attention. "How long has she been on here?" He asked absently.

Marco raised an eyebrow. "Probably around four years or so, maybe more. Why?"

"Mm," Came his blank reply. "How old is she?"

"Hey, hey, kid," Marco muttered. "Don't go hitting on our only girl now. Besides, she wouldn't crack down for you anyway. Plus I think I figured out why Whitebeard put you in her room."

Ace perked up at this. "Oh yeah? And why is that?"

Marco grinned, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Shirley is the Commander of the 2nd Division of Whitebeard's crew. She personally oversees and handles any and all assassinations."

_--end of chapter II.

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_

I apologize if the battle scene was crappy. I suck at fighting scenes anyway... anyway, feel free to support me and review! Any and all constructive criticism is wanted and appreciated!


	3. Chapter III

A/N : Hey guys! Sorry for the late update... I've been busy these past two weeks. But! Here's another chapter for you guys :D the long awaited one! Muhahaha. Enjoy!

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_Eye of the Storm  
Chapter III_

Shirley groaned, tossing around in her bed. She could hear the muffled creak of her door and quiet curses coming from the doorway, but she didn't really heed any attention to it. Marco tended to sneak in and try and get into her bed, but he'd never succeeded. Instead, she snuggled into her pillow, reveling in the comfort and warmth it offered her.

The door shut, and along with it came the absence of that dreaded, dim hallway light. _About time. Stupid Marco._ She sighed quietly and tried to get back to sleep, and within a few minutes, she'd fallen back into her deep slumber.

The sun arose a few hours later, and along with it came the soft shushing of the ocean waves rocking the ship like a wind blowing a cradle. The rays of sunlight struggled against her thin blinds, entreating them to open. But of course, there was no way that Shirley would let them; she loved her sleep almost as much as swordplay.

She shifted in her bed, attempting to find a cold spot where she could pull the warm blankets over her head and hug her pillow. Well, she found her pillow, but it wouldn't budge.

Her eyebrows mentally knitted together. Since when had she gotten such a heavy pillow? But then it clicked.

Marco must have put rocks in her pillow last night to spite her!

Yes, that must be it. He was angry that she never slept with him and now he was evoking revenge. Well, ha-ha, the joke's on him—already she was thinking up various schemes in her mind to pay him back.

But, for now, she would deal with the pillow. After all, it was still a pillow, even if it was filled with rocks. So, Shirley attempted to bury her face in it—only to find that it smelled funny. Like sweat and ashes.

She crinkled her nose in disgust. What, did he use her pillowcase as a towel after he worked out or something? Well, that was just low. She'd have to put a bug in his food or something for that. Ugh. Rocks she could deal with, but a disgusting smell? God, she would murder him. How was she supposed to sleep with this repugnant scent wafting around her bed?

Scowling, Shirley forced herself to open to eyes to observe the damage done to her precious pillow.

Her scream must have woken up the entire ship.

"Y-y-y-you!" Shirley shrieked, pointing an accusing, shaking finger at the teen who had just begun to wake up. "What in the names of HELL do you think you're doing in m-my _bed_?!"

Suddenly the door burst open and Marco busted in, looking like he just woke up (which he probably just did) and brandishing his signature twin guns, one lethal weapon in each hand. "What happened? I heard you scream! Did the Black Gloves--" He cut himself off as Shirley yanked the poor boy up by his hair and began to, literally, beat the shit out of him. She failed to notice that the Commander of the 1st Division was standing at her door, battle-ready (or as battle-ready anyone could be in a minute's notice) and dressed in nothing by a pair of boxers.

"Agh!" Ace shouted, trying futilely to block her blows. "I-" Bam. "-Said-" Wham. "-I'm-" Pow. "-Sorry!" Boom. Shirley mercilessly landed a right hooker in his stomach, causing him to double over, winded by the blow. Then she kneed him in the groin. Hard.

As he curled into the fetal position on the ground groaning, Shirley stood above him, dusting herself off. A smug aura came off her waves. It was around this time that Marco decided to excuse himself and left the room, closing the door with a soft click.

"Stupid kid," Shirley growled, sitting herself on the edge of her messy bed. "Don't you ever, EVER, sleep in my bed. I thought I said you were sleeping on the floor."

"But you didn't leave any pillows or blankets out," He whined pathetically.

"Shut up!" She shouted, kicking him in the side. "Get over it. It's a pirate ship. You don't always get the luxuries you want on the open sea. If you want them, you'll have to earn them. For now, suck it up. Unless you want another beating like today." Shirley stared down disdainfully at the teen, who was now just beginning to recover. "Now get out and STAY OUT." With that, she shoved his body out into the hallway and slammed the door in his face. With him finally gone, she sighed angrily. Stupid, stupid kid. It was kids like him who died young.

Dragging herself over to one of her windows, she opened the blinds, squinting in the early morning sunshine. It was serene and quiet as usual. That was one thing Shirley loved about the ocean; there was no one for tens, hundreds, maybe thousands of miles around. Solitude. And best of all, no peeping toms.

It was on this fine morning that Shirley decided to wear a deep violet button-down blouse with a pair of long, skinny black jeans. She sloppily made her bed (and found to her disgust that now it smelled like _him—_she'd have to wash it later) and pulled on her normal combat boots. Yanking a comb through her unruly bed hair, she tied it up in a loose bun, a couple of stray strands poking out.

She took care to change the bandages on her stomach (herself, this time) and produced the salve with a grinding stick and bowl. The wound had (much to her satisfaction) closed, kudos to the herbs working their magic, and only a small scar remained. Oh well. She'd cover it up somehow.

Daring a glance outside, she realized that the sun had risen a bit more. Seems like more time passed then she thought. Before long, she heard the familiar cowbell rung, followed by the, "Breakfast's served!" that never failed to come after it.

Shirley felt the rumble before she heard it. It was gentle at first, like a baby jumping up and down. Then the baby turned into two. Then three. Then they became three kids. Three teens. Three adults... three giants.

The rumbling ensued, like a stampede of bulls making their way down the extremely cramped hallway. Shirley waited in her room patiently as the men passed her room, for if she had opened her door it would have been flung from its hinges and smashed into tiny bits. Unfortunately, she learned that the hard way. A few minutes went by before the 2nd Division Commander deemed it safe enough to make her way up onto the deck.

The daylight heated up her skin, sending up a nice, comforting feeling around her exposed flesh. She stretched her limbs, looking almost feline as her arms were outstretched before her body. Shirley then heard an irksomely familiar yawn at her back.

Glowering, she turned around to come face to face with the last person she wanted to see.

"Marco, what the _hell_ are you doing on deck?" She spat venomously. If looks could kill, half the crew would be on their way to hell by now. The piratress was already in a foul mood from the early morning, and frankly, Marco was just an eyesore.

He gave her a cheeky grin. Apparently he was unaffected by her intimidating demeanor. "What, I can't e on deck of my own ship?" He replied audaciously. She snorted, turning away from him and walking to the other side of the ship, even though the mess hall was towards the direction that she was originally in. Marco sighed, rubbing the back of his head. Women. They were so damn stubborn.

Shirley leaned over the spot that she loved—_her_ spot. The spot that that stupid kid had taken the night before. She folded her arms on the top, meekly placing her head atop the makeshift pillow her limbs made. It was just ocean, ocean, and more ocean for who knows how long. Blue met blue at the horizon, as if fighting over who would take up more space. It was a nice day. Yes, a nice day...

She sighed. She seemed to be doing that a lot, lately. It was pretty irritating, to be perfectly honest. She crossed her her left boot behind her right, pitching her right knee forward to bump against the side of the ship. She shifted her head to the side, just resting there. It was too early in the morning to be stressing out, she figured. Besides, stress never did anyone good except turn their hairs white when they thought too much.

She closed her eyes. It'd been four years since she'd first stepped aboard this magnificent ship. In these four years, she'd struggled her way from the only female outcast to the respected Commander of 2nd Division of the Whitebeard Pirates, as well as gaining a bounty on her head of 80 million beli. It was rough four years, yet they must have been the best years of her life.

Various memories flooded her mind—times of before she was a pirate, an outlaw. Times when she was trapped by her parents, her life their toy, and they the Fates. It was these times that brought her to the peak of her depression... until he came along.

And set her free.

Free form the chains that bound her.

Free from the cruelty of being forced against her will.

Free from the feeling of helplessness.

Shirley warily opened her eyes. That was enough moping around for one day. After all, it was beautiful out—she should enjoy the weather while she could.

_Grrrbbgghh. _Her face flushed as she heard her stomach grumbling, reminding of her the need to eat. It didn't help that the tantalizing aroma of freshly turned pancakes was floating around, sending a message to her brain saying _Eat me. You know you want to. _

She bit her lip, frowning slightly. Oh, whatever. She _was_ hungry, after all. Slowly, she left her position and stretched, feeling the little kinks on her body getting worked out. She rolled her shoulders one last time before walking towards the crowded hall.

Making her way into the mess hall, she found it claustrophobic and raucous as usual; men were chatting amongst themselves on the long tables that adorned the great room, ale jugs were clinking against each other, and people were singing drunkenly. She slipped through the crowds of intoxicated men and ambled to the far wall of the hall, standing next to a middle-aged man with dirty blonde hair, cut short and gelled. His dull blue eyes gave nothing away, whereas his broad shoulders accompanied by packs upon packs of muscle suggested otherwise. He wore a gray shirt with the sleeves cut off, as well as some black cargo shorts. "Hey there, Miss Shirley."

"Morning, Gilbert," Shirley greeted when she strode over, hands shoved into the pockets of her pants. She turned to stand beside him, observing the chaos from afar. Old Gilbert, as she referred to him (even though he really wasn't older than 35) was the ship's chef and her first friend. He didn't fight, though; he only practiced "self-defense", as he called it.

"So, Old Gil--"

"The usual?"

Shirley smirked, feigning a gasp of astonishment. "You know me too well!"

Gilbert chuckled lowly to himself. "Hard not to when I've been feeding you for the last four years." He then vanished into the swinging double doors behind him that led to the kitchen, coming back a few moments later with a plate filled with savory mashed potatoes with gravy, half-raw eggs (sunny-side up), and two pancakes coated in syrup. Shirley accepted it anxiously, glad to see it was still warm, grabbing both the plate and fork from the amused cook, watching her as she dug into the scrumptious food.

Elsewhere in the hall, Ace sat with Marco and another group of pirates playing War and poker. Ace himself wasn't playing, just onlooking—he never played, because he always tended to lose at whatever game he played. He'd always blank out and suddenly become aware that all the chips had been drawn to one person, somehow.

At this time, he swiveled around to see Shirley scarfing her food down ravenously next to the smug cook, both still standing.

Curious, he elbowed Marco in the side, who grudgingly withdrew from the poker game he'd been watching intently. "What is it, kid?" Marco asked, a bit annoyed. Ace gestured at Shirley next to the blond man, a questioning yet demanding look on his face. Marco scoffed. "Oh, him? He's our chef. Everyone suspects that she had an affair with him some time ago, but the truth is that she only hangs around him because he was the only one who didn't show any animosity towards her when she first joined. 'Cause, you know, tons of pirates say that having a woman on-board _any_ ship is bad luck."

"But why doesn't she sit down?" Ace continued. "It's not like there aren't any seats."

"Ahh, but she does," Marco said absentmindedly as he resumed watching the game. "But when she does, she sits far away by herself. It's usually only on days when the chef isn't around. Some of the other crew members are afraid of her, after all." Ace stared still, watching as Shirley finished the last of her food. Specks of it were dotted around her lips, which she proceeded to lick off while the large, blond man laughed wholeheartedly, taking her plate and whispering something in her ear. They both guffawed, Shirley doubling over and holding her stomach as the cook fled to his sanctuary. Not too long later, she began to leave, a ghost of a smirk plastered on her face.

–

As Shirley stepped outside, she bent her head backwards to glance up at Emmett, their look-out. A burly sort of guy, the kind that makes you think of an oversized, hug-able teddy bear. With crew-cut brown hair and warm, cocoa eyes, he was sort of the junior of the crew; not too much older than Shirley herself, probably only around 24 or 25.

"Yo!" Shirley called, shielding her eyes form the sun's glare with her right hand, though still squinting. "You see anything yet, Em?" Said man peered over the edge of the crow's nest, smiling when he saw who it was.

"Shirley!" He exclaimed. Shirley swore he looked like a kid who'd been told that Christmas was on his birthday. "Hey! Good morning. No, nothing yet; we're bound to hit an island soon though, we've been drifting along for a while now." Emmett looked like such a child when he smiled... it would light up his face like a little boy who'd just been dumped into a vault filled to the brim with candy. "You might want to take a nap or something. I haven't seen any seagulls yet."

"Ah," Shirley said with a tinge of disappointment in her voice. "Alright then. Thanks." She began to trudge back to her room.

"Um--" He began, extending a hand out, only to grasp thin air. "I'll let you know when I spot land, okay?" The piratress only managed a weak wave back, not turning around.

She stuck her hands back in her pockets, frowning. How much longer did they have to wait? It's been nearly a month since they'd seen land! She really couldn't wait any longer—she had to get on land to mail her check, or else--

"Whatcha doin' there, mate?"

Shirley jumped at the voice, startled. She hated when people snuck up behind her! She whipped her head around, getting ready to mouth off Marco or whatever idiot had decided to come at her from behind--

Only to come face-to-face with the one and only Red-Haired Shanks.

She gaped dumbly at him, speechless. "Y-you—when—how—why are you here?" Shirley managed to sputter out pathetically. There, in front of her, was one of the Yonkou, the Four Great Lords of the Sea, laughing at her!

"Ah, Shirley, my love," Shanks grinned, slapping a hand on her back. "It's good to see you again! I see you've grown into quite the lady since the last time I saw you!" Shirley flushed slightly, a scowl tugging at her lips.

"You still haven't answered my question," She argued through gritted teeth. "Why are you here?" Just a tad curious, she swept her eyes over him, shocked at what she saw. "Oh my God, what the hell happened to your arm?!"

"Ahh," He sighed dramatically as he clutched the nub where his left arm used to be. "Well, that's a story for another time. Now about this meeting, love--"

"Shanks?!" Came an incredulous cry from behind. The pair whirled around... to see Ace standing there with a shocked look on his face. "Is that really you?!"

"Ah... Ace!" Shanks exclaimed, beaming. "Ace, my boy! I never expected you to be here... on Whitebeard's ship no less! Come, tell me, how's the rascal Luffy?"

Shirley raised an eyebrow in question. How did the kid and Shanks know each other? And what the hell was a _Luffy_? She watched as Ace, beaming, walked over to the pirate captain and hugged him. _Hugged_ him! Uh, okay. She scoffed. Whatever. If these two were just going to be mushy and lovey, then she was out of here. So she did just that—she turned on her heels and left the vicinity, back to the sanction of her room.

"Wait, wait, lass! What about the meeting?" Shanks called after her, pausing from his animated chat with Ace.

She scowled. "What _about_ the meeting?" Shirley grumbled. "As far as I know, there _is _no meeting--"

"He-ey Shirley! Come on! Cap'n called for a meeting with us!" Marco shouted from across the deck. In a split second he was by her side, grinning at Shanks.

"Wait," Shirley started, irritated. "What meeting?! The cap'n told _you_ and not _me_--?!" The Commander of the 1st Division interrupted her by dragging her away from the other two as they watched sympathetically.

The red-haired pirate captain stretched his only arm after they were out of view, eliciting a huge yawn. He turned to the teen. "Well, lad, I best be going off to that meeting before Newgate has my head. Glad to hear Luffy's been well. Take care, now. Especially around _her_." With that he strode off towards the designated meeting place, leaving a confused Ace in his wake.

_-end of chapter III.

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Gasp! What is this meeting about?! :o What could it beeee? Haha, if anyone guesses right, I'll be shocked. Alright guys, sorry but I'm gonna be mean--I'm not going to update unless I get at _least_ 7 reviews total for the _entire story_. I'm not asking for 7 reviews for chapter three, I'm asking that, since my review count is four right now, all I'm asking is for three more reviews. That's all. Then I'll update again :D Thanks guys! Get going and review!


	4. Chapter IV

A/N : Hey all, again! Thanks so much for waiting! Sorry it took so long, again... school and stuff gets in the way (not to mention the fact that I haven't done a crapload of biology homework and had to do that). But yeah! You get your questions answered in this chapter! I promise you it'll be good!

And holy moly! 10 total reviews! 10!! You guys are AMAZING! Special thanks to himeoka tsuki, panela, jenni, kikis lol, Mikako-37, Emily, LotusBlossomz2061, and LuffyxRuby. Special thanks to EvilBoyzR2Cute, who reviewed TWICE!! Thank you all! You're what makes my day awesome. Anyways, on with the story!

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_Eye of the Storm  
__Chapter IV_

"Let go of me!" Shirley shouted, yanking her wrist out of Marco's deathgrip. "I can walk by myself, thank you very much!" She rubbed her wrists, raw and red from his overly tight handle on her. "Stupid Marco," She muttered darkly.

They stood just outside the giant double doors that led to the conference room. Marco, already being brushed off, went in alone, leaving Shirley to stand there awkwardly by herself.

"Stupid fucking Marco," She cursed again. What the hell was his problem anyway? Dragging her like that! Shirley growled, dragging her fingers through her hair, still irritated. She glared at those doors. Whenever she stepped through them, something bad always happened. _Always_.

"Ahh! Shirley, love! What are you doing standing out here like a lost puppy?" Shanks called, striding up to her casually. Shirley faced him, her expression stony.

"Shanks," She said, choosing her words carefully. "Just... what is this meeting about?"

The pirate captain's smile dwindled a bit, his demeanor a bit less cheerful. "Ah, well," He began a bit quietly. "You'll find out when we go in. Come on, love."

He pushed the doors open with a single effortless push of his hand; Shirley marveled at how much strength he held in just that one arm.

The meeting room was spacious—at least five times the size of her tiny cabin. A large oval table sat in the middle of the room, with about 30 chairs on its circumference. The walls were painted a light blue with various framed paintings of random scenaries and famous pirates (namely Gol D. Roger) hanging, with two open circular windows letting in the salty sea breeze and the warm rays of sun. The floor had a rough, dark blue carpet inlaid on it, the shade just a bit lighter than the midnight sky. Other than that, the room was virtually devoid of objects.

Whitebeard sat at the far end of the table, his face blank and stoic. Marco was on his right, picking his nose absentmindedly. He didn't seem to notice them, for he stared at his finger for a second before flicking the booger off somewhere. Shirley put a disgusted face on. Her captain picked up a crisp manilla folder off the table, using it to wave them in.

Shanks boldly strode into the room, Shirley trailing him meekly with a swish of his loose black mantle. He sat at the opposite head of the table, directly across from Whitebeard himself with Shirley sat facing Marco on her captain's left flank. Marco glanced around the room, as if searching for something.

"Where's Beckman?" He asked. Shirley blinked. She'd forgotten all about his first mate!

"Ah, about that," Shanks sighed. "He was feeling a bit under the weather. I've got Lucky and the doc lookin' after him. He'll be fine." He dismissed it with a swirl of his hand. Marco nodded his understanding, looking over at his captain. Edward Newgate laid his arms on the armrest of his chair, waiting patiently. The meeting had begun.

Whitebeard threw the folder down onto the table with a smack. Marco opened it, displaying the contents. Inside was a picture and a description of a middle-aged man with graying brown hair, a neatly shaved beard, piercing golden eyes, and a sharp, angular nose. He seemed wealthy, for he wore an expensive-looking suit. As most enemies of pirates looked like, he had an unfriendly-looking expression imprinted on his face.

"This is your new mission, Shirley," Her captain grunted. "His name is Chris Rodriguez, age 47. Height 5'7, weight 159 lbs. Wife to Delia Rodriguez, and father to two children; son Romeo Rodriguez, age 6, and daughter Gloria Rodriguez, age 4. Occupation weapons supplier, but also doubles as a spy for the marines. As far as we know, his wife and children know nothing. Not a huge threat right now, but he can be if we leave him alone. Our crews have spotted his hitmen taking out a few big-name pirates, namely the captain of the Black Widows."

Shanks grimaced, folding his hands together in his lap. "Ah, that does sound troublesome," He said, leaning back on his chair. "That rookie had a bounty of 60 million belis on his head. If we let him go on, he may target the rookie supernovas up in the Sabaody Archipelago."

"Is he a bounty hunter?" Marco asked.

Shanks shook his head. "No. Not from what we know. So far, we think he hired a couple of renegade pirates to work under him; bribed with money and false promises. We don't know who yet, though, so watch out."

Shirley asked, "Is he in the Grand Line? Or in the East Blue?"

"Actually, he's in the West Blue," Whitebeard replied. "The plan is for you to catch a ride with a merchant ship at Loguetown and ride over Reverse Mountain. The arrangements for your trip have already been arranged."

Shirley raised an eyebrow in question. "Loguetown? Just how far away from it are we?"

"Actually, we're just a day's sailing away from it," Marco said, clearing his throat.. He threw a lazy arm across the back of the chair adjacent to him, yawning. "You can restock and resupply there. We should arrive there around late morning to noon, and your ship leaves at around sundown. Make sure to get there by 5pm though, because they start packing up around 5:30."

Shirley nodded her agreement with a slight tilt of her head.

"Alright, here's your debriefing," Whitebeard began. He cleared his throat. "You're to travel from Loguetown on the merchant ship to Saida Island in the West Blue. Once there, you will pose as a tourist, enjoying the local attractions. Your mission is to take out his hitmen, and if you can, Rodriguez himself. We would prefer you do it discreetly, or if not, at least somewhere isolated, away from civilian eyes. When we arrive in Loguetown, you'll have around five hours to gather your supplies. Your partner for this will be Marco, as usual. You have a month to complete it."

Shanks raised his hand. "I have an alternate suggestion," The red-haired man said. "Instead of Marco, who's gone on every mission with Shirley, why don't we nominate Ace?"

"What?!" Shirley shouted, standing up and slamming her hands on the table. "I object! Are you CRAZY? You want that new recruit going on an important assassination mission with _me?_"

Marco raised his hand lazily. "I object as well. I don't think it'd be a very good idea to allow a member who hasn't even been with us a full week to go on such a short notice mission. We should give him time to settle in, to get used to the way things are before pushing him off the edge and into the world of assassination. And besides, we haven't even determined what division he'll be put into yet."

"I know that, but it'll be a good way to test his ability and survival skills," Shanks countered. "I knew the kid when he was young, and he may be damn headstrong, but he's got good instincts. Let him try it. And besides, he's been listening on us anyway, haven't you boy?"

Silence.

"...What did you say?" Shirley said in a low, dangerous voice. The temperature in the room suddenly dropped, and a suffocating fog began to descend on the individuals within. "That... that _kid_ has been _eavesdropping on our meeting?!_"

With that she stormed over to the door in a fury, yanking it open with a force strong enough to nearly throw the poor door off its hinges. A rush of cool wind blew against the three men in the room.

There laid Ace, slumped on the ground with his back against the other door, snoring away with a trickle of drool trailing down from the corner of his mouth.

"_You._"

Shirley grabbed and pulled the sleeping kid up by his hair, which immediately gave him a painful wake-up call. She drew his face menacingly close to hers, glaring at him all the while. "What the _hell_ do you think you're doing here?"

Ace laughed nervously, rubbing his arm. "Yeah, um, I kinda got lost, and--"

"Cut the crap." Shirley growled.

Ace gulped. "Ah ha ha ha, look at the time! Well, I really should be going--"

"Ace," Shanks called out. "It's okay. Shirley, let him go, love."

With one last glare, she grudgingly let go of him, throwing him onto the ground and watching as he stumbled to regain his footing. The men watched as Shirley trudged back to her seat, slumping down in it in a bad mood, her right leg slung over her left and her arms crossed in front of her chest, huffing and turning her head away from Ace in annoyance.

"Come in, son," Whitebeard boomed from across the room. Ace hesitantly walked inside, fidgeting with his fingers.

"Captain," Marco started. "I stand by Shirley on this matter. There is just _no way _such a kid like him could even dream of starting a crucial matter so young, so early. He needs more experience--"

"Let him go," Newgate cut in.

Shirley turned to look at him, her mouth agape, dumbfounded. Marco gave a blank look that clearly read _what the hell are you thinking_. Ace himself was shocked.

Shirley recovered first. "B-but captain! If you vote with Shanks and Marco voted with me, then that makes it a tie!"

Shanks laughed. "Ah, love," He said warmly. "Don't you know that a captain's vote counts twice? So technically, it's four against two."

Shirley was aghast with horror.

"I still object," Marco said defiantly.

"As do I!" Shirley added.

"Oi, oi, don't I get a say in this?" Ace interjected, a little perturbed that they were talking like he wasn't there.

"NO!" Everyone shouted in unison. Minus Whitebeard.

Shirley sighed, running her fingers through her tangled coffee hair. "We're getting nowhere with this. Let's move on; what's the reward this time?"

Whitebeard shifted through the papers in the folder, pulling out a single sheet, pushing it towards her. "Here."

The piratress's lips turned into a thin, hard line as she read it aloud. "100 million beli combined for the heads of Chris Rodriguez, 45 million, and his hitman, the bounty hunter, archer specialist, Julian Sepulveda, 55 million." She gulped; Marco could see the small ball making its way down her throat and down into her esophagus. Her knuckles were white from gripping the paper too tightly, and she ended up crumpling it up in her clenched fist.

"...We arrive at Loguetown tomorrow, right?" She said through tight lips. The paper was still in her hand, slowly ripping at the force that was being put on it. Whitebeard nodded once to affirm it.

With that, she walked out of the meeting room without another word and left the vicinity.

–

With a cigarette in her mouth, Shirley folded her arms atop the railing, resting her head on the uncomfortable cushion it formed. She closed her eyes, feeling the calm high overtaking her jittery nerves as she settled into a more peaceful state.

This could not be happening. This could _not_ be happening. It just... it wasn't real.

_Julian..._

"Ahem. Are you still there, love?"

Shirley jumped and turned around to see her assaulter. _God,_ she hated when people snuck up on her!

"Shanks," She breathed after calming down. "Hi. Did you need something?"

He dismissed it with a wave of his hand. "What, I can't even say goodbye to my dear friend when I'm about to leave?"

Shirley blinked. Oh. Right. She'd forgotten about Shanks having to leave. Of course, it wouldn't be realistic for him to stay long. He had other things to attend to.

Shanks plucked the cigarette from between her lips and smirked,waving it in front of her. "You know you shouldn't be smoking. I thought you knew how bad these things are for you."

"Ah... right," Shirley said uncertainly, still a bit dazed. Shanks smiled, wrapping his right arm around her lithe body and pulling her close. Her body stiffened, surprised at the sudden contact. A flush of crimson rose to her cheeks, painting them a gentle pink. She breathed in his scent, loving how it was just like the sea; salty and soothing, yet something sharp and dangerous in it. Still a bit uptight, Shanks breathed out softly, loosening his grip on her. Shirley did likewise, and began to relax and settle into the embrace, tentatively pressing her forehead onto his chest and closing her eyes, though refusing to return the hug herself.

Shanks gave a low, rumbling laugh. "You're still short as ever, love. I don't think you grew since I last saw you; you're only up to my chest," He teased.

Shirley scowled. "Shut up." She vigorously shoved him away from her, them both stumbling a few steps. Her head was down, her hair forming a curtain around her.

Shanks frowned, reaching a hand out for her. "Shirley...?"

She slapped it away. "I'm fine," She responded, looking up with an annoyed face. However, Shanks could tell that it was twinged with sadness. "Well? What are you waiting for? Just go. Your crew's waiting for you anyway." She flicked her head towards his ship docked next to their own, silent yet welcoming. "Go. They need you." She repeated.

Shanks sighed. "Take care, love," He murmured, moving forward to brush his lips against the top of her head. She didn't move.

With a swish of his cloak, he was gone and back on his ship. Shirley watched as it made its away far into the distance, not even blinking as it drifted farther and farther.

Somewhere in the background, Ace had watched the whole exchange.

--_end of chapter IV.

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I'm so so so sorry it took so long to get out! I've been so busy D: but hopefully this chapter will be satisfying enough for you all! And a few notes before we go :

*When Shanks calls Shirley _love_, it's in a friendly term, not in a loving term. They have no relationship going on between them. Remember guys, this is an AceOC fic, not a ShanksOC fic!

**I've fixed a couple typos I noticed when re-reading my last few chapters. Sorry for the inconveniences it caused (if it caused any). Feel free to point out typos to me anytime, because usually I don't check over my chapters before posting them!


	5. Chapter V

A/N : Hello again! School's out, and summer's here! Wow, we've already gotten to the fifth chapter of _Eye of the Storm_! Thank you all for sticking with me and reviewing! In two days, I've gotten three reviews already! 13 total reviews, whoo! Special thanks to 13th., EvilBoyzR2Cute, and Jenniko-chan! Without further ado, I introduce chapter five!

*One more thing. Please note that Shirley keeps her sword with her at all times, even if I don't say "Shirley strapped on her sword" or something like that. This won't make sense at the moment, but you'll know what I mean when you read the chapter :D I just don't want people going "woah, where'd her sword come from?" So yeah. ANYWAYS, enjoy!

Oh and, I hope you guys like it, because I personally had a hard time writing it D:

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_Eye of the Storm  
__Chapter V_

The next day Shirley tossed and turned in her bed, groaning. The sun's bleary rays barely made its way through her thin blinds, and though it was morning, the sky was still fairly dark. At last she managed to drag herself off her bed (literally), letting out a yelp when her body made contact with the wooden floor, her sheets tangled up in her limbs. As she struggled to free herself, she heard the familiar stampede of men that always came with each morning.

A pause.

Damn, it must be later than she'd thought.

Ah, well. No use wasting time now.

Shirley rolled her sheets up into a ball once she was untangled and tossed the crumpled heap onto her bed, where it wilted feebly. She dug through her closet and pulled out a dark purple polo t-shirt with a loose white silk scarf, throwing them onto her bed. She grabbed her only pair of blue jeans left and dragged them on after depositing her green flannel pants on the floor, and put on her shirt after pulling her tank top off; she then hastily tied her scarf around her neck, making it look like a 5 year old did it. She frowned, feeling like she was missing something. Shirley then spotted a plain thin scrunchie on her desk and grabbed it, putting it on her mouth as her fingers weaved through her mussed hair, smoothing it out before taking the band and typing her hair up in a high ponytail.

She opened her blinds, letting what little sunlight there was into her room. It was a nice day.

A nice day for a funeral, that is.

Shirley sighed. Thank god the cap'n had let her send Ace to the barracks last night. Because of that, she'd been able to sleep peacefully. Or, at least, as peacefully a female pirate could on a ship full of men.

As she stepped into the hall, she found some men already making their ways back to their quarters. Man, she'd taken a really long time getting ready.

The female pirate walked up the stairs and onto the deck, going straight to the mess hall. She found it quieter, which meant breakfast was nearly over. Only about half the men remained. She came to the back as usual, only to find a reheated plate with her breakfast on it, as well as a small note underneath it.

_Miss Shirley_, it read. _Sorry I can't be here today. I've been feeling a bit under the weather, so I'm off to see the doc. I'll be back by 1 for lunch, so I'll see you then._

_-Gilbert_

She frowned, disappointed. This would be the last time she'd see him in a while, and she wouldn't even be here for lunch. Sighing, she picked up her fork and ate her food without savoring it.

–

By the time she got out of there, it must have been nearly noon. The sun was steadily rising in the sky and the day was getting warmer. Shirley stalked down back to her room, opening her door and grabbing a pack of cigarettes, along with her metal lighter. She quietly closed the door behind her, though she left it slightly ajar, and made her way back up to the deck.

In just those few minutes, the temperature had risen. She went over to her usual spot, leaning over the side while pulling a cigarette out. She put the lighter to her cancer stick in her mouth, lighting it without much thought. The secondhand smoke billowed out before her, gently flowing away with the winds.

Shirley took the cigarette from her mouth with her middle and index finger, slowly exhaling the fog that built up in the cavity of her mouth.

"Hey."

Shirley growled. "Fuck off. I'm in a bad mood."

"Why? Because your little chef-boyfriend wasn't here today?"

In an outrage, Shirley whirled around to see the new kid mocking her. "You don't know what you're talking about, _kid._" She sneered. "So do us both a favor and go away before someone gets hurt; crawl back into your little hole or something."

Ace however, boldly strode up to her. "Who's gonna make me?"

Shirley put her hand on the hilt of her sword. "Then I'll just have to teach you to respect your god damned elders."

"You're not that much older than me," He retorted. "Old enough to be my sister maybe. But not my mom."

"Screw your mom!" Shirley shouted. "No one gives a damn!"

Ace got quiet for a moment. "My mom's dead."

Shirley, though, didn't hesitate. "If you expect me to apologize, forget it. My mother and father are both dead. If you asked anyone else on this ship, they'll say their parents are dead too. It's a dog-eat-dog world, kid. If you're not prepared to face that, you shouldn't have become a pirate." Urgh! The nerve of this kid! What the hell was he thinking? "And don't you start the crap about having a tragic past, 'cause I guarantee you all our men have a million tales to tell."

The teen demanded, "Then what's up with you and that chef? And Shanks?"

Shirley narrowed her eyes in displeasure. "Why do you care, you nosy little brat? It's nothing; we're just friends. And why the hell should I tell you about Shanks? As far as I know, I've no obligation to tell you anything, and if I remember correctly, _I outrank you._" She sneered, frowning with her hands on her hips.

Ace retorted, "What's so wrong about being curious about a childhood friend?"

She struggled to not roll her eyes. God, that was such a cliché quote! "Well if you _must_ know, Shanks is--"

"Land ho!"

–

With a leather knapsack full of basic necessities slung over her right shoulder and Dreamweaver tucked snugly by her side, Shirley jumped off the port side of the Moby Dick, Ace closely in tow behind her. The two landed on the wooden docks with a _thud, _though Shirley's was considerably lighter than his.

She scoffed inwardly. There's no way he'll be joining the 2nd Division anytime soon. She'd make sure of that.

As the wooden dock met concrete pathways, she stopped in her tracks and turned around to face him.

"Kid," She growled. "We meet back here at 4:45. Got that? Any later and you can say sayonara to future hopes of having a family." Shirley looked quite comical jabbing a finger into his broad chest, considering the top of her head barely reached his shoulder. Ace, though, looked rather cheeky through the threat. "Now here are the rules. First, go back on the ship and put a damn shirt on! Pack a few more while you're at it." She wrinkled her nose in disapproval and pointed at the ship to exemplify her order. "We're supposed to be tourists, not radicals. Second, no fighting involving civilians _at any time._ Are we clear? _At. Any. Time. _Third, no law breaking of any sort! This includes stealing! We may be pirates, but we're _undercover_ pirates! Do you understand?" Ace nodded, looking elsewhere. "Good. Now get out of my sight." And with that she briskly walked off into town.

Ace sighed, scratching the back of his head. Did he really need a shirt?... Ah, oh well. He'd buy one in town. Besides, the girls love it.

–

The first place Shirley headed for was the post office. As soon as she spotted it, she instantly made a beeline for the white-clad building. Pushing through the revolving glass door, her boots met with shiny burgundy tiles and a wave of air conditioning that smacked her in the face. A few scattered potted plants stood against the walls, and a table with free coffee was at the far end of the room. But Shirley didn't want coffee (in fact, she hated coffee). She needed to mail something.

Luckily for her, there was no line today. A bit odd, but whatever. She wasn't complaining.

"Next, please," Droned a middle-aged lady to the far right. Her face was covered in heavy makeup and her eyes drooped from the weight; her chin rested in the palm of her hand and her lips were smacking bubblegum noisily. Miraculously she didn't get any in her strawberry blonde hair, which was pulled back in a loose bun.

As Shirley approached her, the teller didn't even move. She just sighed. "What can I do for ya today, hun?" The lady asked in an irksome nasally voice.

Shirley resisted the urge to gag. Up close she was even more uglier. She smelled like she hadn't taken a shower in weeks and had tried to cover it up with perfume (which obviously didn't work), and her lips were dried and cracked, but she still insisted on putting on lipstick.

"Um... hi," Shirley greeted, putting on a fake smile. "I need to send a package--"

"That's what we're here fer, hun," The lady interrupted rudely. Her dirty silver nametag read, _Hi, my name is MaRiBEL._

Shirley coughed. She was getting fed up with this woman. "Yes, I know. I need to send a first class priority package to Mirale Isle in South Blue--"

"How much?" Maribel drawled.

Shirley twitched. "How much _what?_"

Maribel blew a bubble, and the pirate watched as it popped on her face. "How much yer ass got, that's what."

"Oh, money isn't a problem," Shirley said irritably, dismissing it. She took a crudely wrapped burden from her bag and put it on the table, sliding it towards Maribel. "Look, I need to get this to Mirale Isle as soon as possible--"

"Fi'ty percent o' yer money," Maribel said.

Shirley was shocked. "What?"

Maribel eyed her like she would eye a fly on a piece of meat, curling her upper lip in annoyance. "Whaddya mean, _what_? Ya deaf or somethin'? You give us half yer money, it's a next day delivery. That's a first class priority shipping. It's what'cha want, right hun? Now fork ova fi'ty percent."

"This is ridiculous," Shirley grumbled, slapping forty thousand beli onto the tabletop. "There. Fifty percent. Now you make sure that gets to Mirale Isle safely, or I'll personally have your head." She stomped out of the post office, ensuring that she pushed the circling doors so hard they spun so quickly in their spots that no one could enter or leave.

–

Shirley shoved her hands in her pocket, walking around Loguetown and eying the shops with little interest. It was busy today, with street vendors shouting out prices to try and entice customers, with mothers running back and forth with children by their sides, an with couples all over each other, some holding hands, some snuggling in a nearby cafe, some kissing in the middle of the street.

But, of course, being Shirley, she disregarded everything.

Finally, a small bakery caught her eye. New Dragon Boat Bakery.

Ooh, oriental. She liked it.

Once inside, she found it quite lively; it seemed to be pretty popular among the young adult age group. Shirley went up to the counter and ordered a cold milk tea and a red pork bun, freshly baked and guzzled with honey on top. She paid only 1500 beli (this is why she loved oriental places, they're so cheap!) and took her food on a plastic red tray, moving to sit at a cold metal table by the window.

Elsewhere, Ace was experiencing difficulties.

Difficulty from keeping himself from punching these guys' faces in.

"Ha ha ha! Yeah, man! You should've seen her face when she woke up—it was priceless!" A teen laughed raucously with his little group of five friends, who also burst into laughter at the same time, as if they rehearsed it.

Another guy started, "Hey, guys, did you see that babe? The one with the curves and that big ass sword?" To emphasize it, he made an exaggerated hourglass figure in the air with his hands.

This was why Ace was irritated. He hated guys who acted like this (though he was like this too)... but at least he treated women with respect! He'd never leave a woman just like that after a one night stand!

...Maybe.

"Yeah man! She was damn sexy! God, I'd pay to see her legs... too bad she was wearing jeans, her outfit would've looked cuter with a skirt," One commented in an almost awestruck tone.

Another scoffed. "What the hell are you talking about? That little girl? Why would you like _her?_ She's so short! And she has no curves, or at least barely. She's wearing jeans 'cause she doesn't wanna show her legs; maybe she doesn't shave or something!" They all laughed. "And besides, did you look at her boobs? She looks like she can't even be a C!" More laughter.

Then one piped up. "If you're so confident Carter, then why don't you try and pick her up? Maybe we could learn a few things from you. After all, you _are_ the king of getting girls in your bed within a day."

A pause.

More encouragement. "Yeah Carter!" "C'mon, let's see you at work!" "Let's go, man!"

More laughter. "Okay, okay. Let's go pick up some girls!" They stood up and left, heading down the main road.

Ace stood to follow. He definitely wasn't going to stand for this crap.

–

As Shirley sipped her drink contentedly, she noticed a small commotion outside her cafe. With her peripheral vision she was able to make out a gang of adolescent boys ganging up on another guy.

She sighed inwardly. Teens and their hormones.

Shirley bit into her bun, chewing the warm filling slowly, savoring the taste. She'd been sitting here for nearly an hour without any distractions (namely, men who tried to hit on her, or even worse, bounty hunters) and god, was she loving it! Now if only she could maintain this kind of peace back on the Moby Dick...

She dared a quick glance out the window, just to update on her previous knowledge. There was now a crowd forming around that group of kids she'd seen earlier. Worried mothers covered their young childrens' eyes as they ushered them along like a herd of sheep. The crowd began chanting and shouting, though as to what they were saying Shirley couldn't hear. However, she _could_ hear thuds as punches made contact with flesh. She closed her eyes, tilting her head back so she could finish off the last of her milk tea. Ah, refreshing.

Another swift look outside made her blood boil.

An orange cowboy hat flew from inside the human arena to land in front of the cafe's window.

Shirley's mouth twitched.

Oh, someone was going to get a damn good beating.

With a loud screech she pushed her chair back from the table, the legs grinding against the shiny tiled floor. Without even bothering to dump the leftover contents on her tray (the manager yelled at her in some foreign language behind the counter because of that), she pushed the glass door open and stepped into the streets.

Sitting inside the cafe, the noise level was like a stereo muffled with a pillow.

Stepping outside the cafe was like inserting a screamo CD, taking the pillow away, and adding ten more stereos.

The noise was deafening. She could barely hear herself think. People were shouting, hooting, cheering for the two boys fighting. Off to the side, some people were making bets.

A vein throbbed on her forehead. Shirley had had enough of this bullcrap.

Pushing and shoving her way through the horde of people, she managed to make her way to the front, where Stupid #1 and Stupid #2 were facing off.

Ace was rather battered up. That was pretty much what came to her mind. Nothing life-threatening or serious, but he looked like he'd been pushed around a bit. His left eye was black and swollen, his bottom lip was split, and he sported numerous shallow scratches and cuts all over his body. He looked like he'd been in a street brawl (which he had).

And, to Shirley's disgust, he still hadn't put a shirt on. _Stupid kid._

The other guy looked worse off, though. He, too, had a black eye, but in addition to that, his left arm hung limply by his side. Shirley squinted to get a better view. Had Ace broken it? It was highly likely, judging by the way he winced in pain whenever he accidentally tried to move it. He staggered almost drunkenly, struggling futilely to maintain his balance. His short blonde hair was splattered with his own blood, and his blue eyes shone with anger. It seems that both men hadn't noticed her yet. With a grunt, he lunged for Ace, right first balled and ready to take out some Stupid #2 flesh.

Ace, panting rather heavily now, started to make a move to dodge it—but he found that he didn't need to. A shadow, faster then he could comprehend, appeared in front of him to take the blow. He could tell the figure was feminine by the tight clothes and curves of her body, as well as the flowing brunette hair that followed her like a loyal puppy dog.

Shirley glared at the offending man whose eyes grew to the size of saucers at the sight of her. His fist was encased in her grip, Shirley giving him a menacing look that bore into his head. He opened his mouth to say something (to try and defend himself, Shirley guessed) but all he managed to do was stutter a few incoherent mumbles.

Tightening her grip on his fist, she let out a grunt as she took a step back and threw him across the concrete arena and somewhere into the crowd. People screamed, scrambling to get out of the way of the body flying towards them and potentially hurting someone. A small opening in the mass formed where his body landed, the man groaning softly in pain. A couple of his friends came rushing over, panicking and shouting for a doctor.

Shirley stuck her tongue out at the bewildered teens who looked just as terrified as a child about to get a beating before turning on her heels and heading towards Ace, who, at some point in the fight, had fallen down on his behind. Her lips curled down in a frown but offered him a hand nonetheless, which he took, grinning sheepishly.

As soon as he stood up, she slapped him across the face.

Everyone watched, shocked, as the older woman put her hands haughtily on her hips and the muscled shirtless teen put a shocked hand to his cheek.

"Stupid brother. Don't you ever do that again," She quietly, making a nearly believable puppy pout and wrapping her arms around him. She pulled him forward, and he almost lost his footing from the sudden tug ahead.

Suddenly an ingenious idea struck him. Ace took advantage of his predicament, instead reversing the situation and crushing Shirley against his well-defined chest. She choked, surprised by the sudden contact. He could clearly feel her tense up, but only grinned more as his hat hid his face from the view of the spectators.

Shirley very nearly put her hands to his chest and pushed him away. "What the _hell_ do you think you're doing?!" She hissed under her breath.

A cheeky response. "Getting us out of this."

A scoff. "Fine. But _you_ play along with _me._"

Disengaging herself from his grip, she turned to the man at the other end of where they stood, standing up with the help of his croonie friends, looking quite terrified.

She narrowed her eyes. "_You._" The teen cowered away, tripping over his own footing while trying to put distance between himself and the maniac woman stalking towards him with an intimidating glare.

Shirley picked him up by the collar of his shirt. "Bother us again, and you won't be able to show your face around here the next day," She growled. He nodded his head furiously, panic in his eyes. With a scoff, she threw him down and shoved her hands in her pockets. "Let's go, kid." She said, nodding towards Ace. She walked off, away from the crowd, Ace staggering after her.

_--end of chapter V.

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_

*Ugh! I think this chapter is out sooner... I actually had a lot of trouble writing this :| Sorry if the ending was kind of rushed, I really wanted to wrap it up and I kinda.. hadn't thought about it until I wrote it... which is never good (don't do that!), so I suffered from a mild writer's block. I mean, I knew what I wanted to happen, but it's harder to put it into words then it is to imagine it, ya know?

**I'm not quite sure if Ace is OOC during the little hug at the end. At first I described him as nervous/ anxious/ blushing whatever you want to call it, but then I later changed it to a cocky attitude, since that's how Shirley views him as anyway. Please, PLEASE, feel free to tell me if you find something wrong!

***Sorry if this chapter is a bit lengthy. It was originally going to be even longer but I decided to cut it short, because if I'd included it, it probably would've been over 5,000 words (I haven't even started the next chapter, though I will this afternoon!) and... yeah. The next arc will be epic :D I've decided to include a canon character in their little mission... as to who it is, I'll leave you guys guessing. ;] Feel free to leave your opinions in a review or a PM!

****And... one last thing (I'm sorry!) Since it's summer, I may or may not be updating frequently. Actually, my updates are already infrequent, so... just expect that from me, haha. I've no guarantee that I'll be writing a lot over the summer, since it IS summer. I need my rest too! Somehow I find that writing on the computer is a lot more taxing then writing in a notebook, for some reason...

Okay! So, I think that wraps up my little notes for this chapter. I only got three reviews last chapter D: WHY IS THAT?! Because of that I'll be a little meaner today... I won't update again until I get at least 17 total reviews! That's right guys! I need four reviews for this chapter! I'm sure you guys can do that, since you managed to get me a whopping like, 7? reviews for... chapter 2 (or was it 3?). I'm counting on you guys! :D


	6. Chapter VI

A/N : Yeah okay... I have no idea how this chapter is going to turn out, because this is my first time (in a long time) that I've written a chapter entirely on the computer. Normally I write it out in my notebook first, type it up, and edit as I go along—so yeah. Hopefully it'll turn out okay and not that bad :D

Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers : Happy94Goth, Jenniko-chan, nothing new in this world, EvilBoyzR2Cute, Sans-forever, shouldamatta and Mikako-37! I got 24 reviews!! AHH! I'm so happy T_T so as a gift, I'm forcing myself to finish up this chapter TODAY. Hopefully it's up to you guys' standards...

Sorry it took so long to post ): This might sound strange (in fact, it sounds strange to me, and I'm the one doing it!) but when I type chapters on the computer I get lazy and it feels more of a chore or an obligation rather than fun and a hobby D: I blame MapleStory and the internet taking away my inspiration...

And... guys. As I'm sure a lot of you know, the latest chapter of One Piece, chapter 550, has thrown a wrench into many an author's fics.

I am no exception.

I wanted to keep this story as canon as possible (as in, trying not to alter the future with these happenings). Depending on the next chapter, 551, that should come out on Thursday/Friday, I will edit chapter 1 accordingly.

If you do not read the manga and do not understand what I'm talking about, just ignore it. :D

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_Eye of the Storm  
__Chapter VI_

"Ow ow ow!" Ace moaned as Shirley dragged him by the ear, taking long strides down the street. "What the hell are you doing?!" Shirley retained the permanent scowl written on her face, glaring at anyone who dared to stare at the strange pair; the older woman dragging a younger teen by the ear, the teen crying out in pain.

"What the hell did you think _you_ were doing?"! Shirley hissed, whirling around in a rage to come face to face with a terrified Ace. "I specifically told you _not_ to get into a fight. And what do you do? _You get into a fight!_ What the hell do I have to do to keep you under control?!"

A few middle-aged women whispered amongst themselves to the side. "Is that his mom?" One asked quietly. Another shook their head.

"No, no; she must be his girlfriend. See, she's much too young to be his mother."

One of the women tsked. "Yes, but you know girls these days—many of them pregnant as teens, then have teenage sons when they're in their 30s..." Hushed voices whispered quietly, debating the probability.

Shirley heard. She turned around and shot a leer at them,which instantly shut them up. The corner of her eye twitched in annoyance. Stupid old ladies.

"We're getting you a shirt," She grumbled. Shirley knew people were staring. Heck, she would've stared if she saw a pair this strange walking down the street too! She eyed him warily, noting the particularly... flat... backpack. "And buying you a couple more while we're at it."

"But I don't have money," He whined pitifully. Shirley could almost feel her blood pressure rise.

"You. Stupid. Brat. I _TOLD_ YOU TO BRING MONEY!" She practically screamed in his face.

Ace gave a miniscule pout. "No you didn't," He mumbled, following her like a duckling would follow its mother. At some point she'd let go of his ear, opting instead to walk in the front like a pompous queen and him her meek servant.

Shirley make a sharp turn into the nearest clothing store—a small thrift shop that sold inexpensive shirts and whatnot. The windows displayed dummies wearing the latest trends, which Shirley found particularly revolting. For instance, one dummy had a female figure, wearing a tight-fitting, very revealing tank top as well as a denim miniskirt (which she positively detested), and the other dummy was of yet another female figure wearing a skimpy two-piece bathing suit, leaving nothing to the imagination.

Ace, of course, was nearly drooling over the—what he called—damn hot outfits.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, she did a 180, grabbing onto the teen's muscled arm and dragging him in behind her as to not attract too much attention.

The interior of the store was rather cluttered; racks upon racks upon racks of clothes of every shape, size, and color were stacked everywhere, and for every occasion and season. Off to the left were puffy, thick, furry winter coats and hoodies, to the far back were fancy dresses and suits for weddings and special occasions, then directly in front of her were what was in season—t-shirts and shorts. A bored looking sales clerk was standing off to the side, her long oily black hair draping over her equally oily face. Wearing nothing but a bland white loose t-shirt and jeans, she almost looked out of place.

With purpose, Shirley strode over to the nearest rack and chose a couple of t-shirts at random (mostly large sizes, since she didn't think he could fit into those measly mediums with those biceps of his) and thrust them into his unprepared arms. Ace stumbled back a few steps, startled.

With a hand on her right hip, Shirley (almost snottily, Ace noted) pointed at the nearest dressing room. Curling her upper lip northward in a sneer, she spat, "Go try it on. If it fits, buy it. If it doesn't, get an extra large." Ace frowned slightly, since he hated being bossed around, but entered the cramped room nonetheless, closing the door behind him with a _click_. Rather reluctantly, he frowned at the shirt as he held it out at arm's length and eyed it with distaste, as if it was the most hideous thing he'd been force to ever wear (which it probably was). It was some sort of tropical floral print, with the most ridiculous colors (purple and green? What the heck?). It was a button down shirt, and he slipped his arms through the designated holes carefully, as if they were laced with poison that would melt his flesh away with contact.

Ugh. He would _never_ wear something like this again.

"Are you done yet?" Came Shirley's irritated voice, piercing his thoughts.

"Eh? Uh... yeah, I guess," Ace called back, his voice fading out at the end.

Shirley's voice developed a note of what he believed was skepticism. "What, does it not fit or something? If it doesn't, say something earlier, idiot."

Yanking the door open, he responded, "No, no, it's fine, it's just that--"

"See, it fits you perfectly!" Shirley interrupted. She randomly took a few more large sized t-shirts off the nearest rack, which were (thankfully) mostly polos, Ace noted, forced him out of the shirt he was wearing now (the ugly tropical floral print one, and he was glad to be rid of it) and walked to the counter and paid for it. The salesclerk shoved the shirts into two overly large shopping bags and gave them to Shirley, who grabbed them off the counter and walked out. Ace sighed. Why'd she have to be so moody today, of all days?

–

"Oh shit, look at the time!" Shirley shouted, smacking her forehead as she saw the large clock in the town's square strike 5PM. "We're late! God, what if they already left without us, we're screwed! Come on, kid!" Twisting her head around in random directions, she tried to find the way down to the harbor as the gong of the clock tower rang once, twice. Finally seeing the ships off to the west, she took off sprinting, letting Ace race after her.

About halfway there a metal railing stopped them, barring their way from stepping off a cliff.

But of course, Shirley was a pirate. She wasn't gonna let a stupid metal railing and a cliff stop her from getting to the ship.

Ace gave a look of disbelief as Shirley gave a lunge towards the railing, grabbing onto it tightly before using the momentum to propel her legs over it and leap onto the roofs of the numerous buildings below. Her landing was a bit rocky, her boots skidding over the roof tops before coming to a stop.

Woah. Was Ace expected to do that too?

Shirley gave an impatient glance up towards the teen that was gaping at the feat.

"Well? What are you waiting for, kid, an invitation? Jump down! The boat's gonna leave soon!"

Shirley spotted a _what-the-hell-do-you-expect-me-to-do_ expression on his features. She gave a little something that was between a sigh and cough, looking away and rolling her eyes. "Come on," She called, eying him out of the corner of her eye. "We haven't got all day. Just jump down." Folding her arms in front of her chest, she turned to face him. "The roof's not gonna kill you. Or do you want me to catch you?" She mocked.

Ace's nostrils flared. How dare she make fun of him like he was some... some... seven year old baby?!

Hyped up in his anger, Ace backed up a few steps backwards, and before he knew it, found himself running at the edge and hurling himself over and landing rather roughly onto the red tiled rooftops.

Shirley bounded over to him a few long strides, standing above him with a look of annoyance. Her lips were curved in a frown, staring down at him. Ace laid sprawled across the roof, but quickly got up once she had come.

She sighed. "Stupid kid. Learn to do it more gracefully; I don't care if you're a guy. I've seen men twice your size jump and land with the grace of a dove. Well, whatever; we'll train you to do that when we finish this god damn mission." With that, she took a running leap and began to run across the various rooftops towards the docks.

Ace let out an inward groan. He had to jump across all these roofs too? God, she must be insane...

Not letting her get too far away in fear (or maybe not quite fear) of getting scolded yet again, he swiftly followed after her.

–

"It left already? What do you mean it left already?!" Shirley shouted at the piers boy, who was trembling fiercely. Grabbing hold of his shoulder, she shook him hard. "It's still 5:10! They were supposed to leave at 5:45!"

The boy stammered, "T-the ship decided to t-take off early, because the w-we-weather looked like i-it was going to storm soon," Shirley looked up at the sky, as if to confirm what he said was true. She supposed it was; the clouds had begun to gather and what was once a light blue was rapidly turning a dark, ugly gray. Thunder rumbled in the distance, foreshadowing the coming storm that was sure to come.

With an exasperated sigh, Shirley angrily let go of his shoulder, simultaneously pushing him rather hard, causing him to lose his footing. Huffing, she breathed a little puff of air that pushed back a few stray strands of her chocolate hair out of her face. "Well, is there any other boats to West Blue leaving anytime soon? My _partner_," Shirley began, putting a rather strong emphasis on the word as if it were some repulsive piece of trash, "And I need to get over there as soon as possible."

The boy shook like a falling leaf. "A-ah, there i-is one ship..."

"We'll take it!" Shirley agreed at once, not at all thinking about the conditions it would be in.

Five minutes later, the pair were staring at the ugliest, most un-seafaring worthy ship they had ever seen.

It was a tiny, cramped viking _knorr_; the figurehead was supposed to be the usual maiden in a dress with her hands clasped in front of her chest, but the poor lady's head looked like it was violently chopped off with a blunt axe. The masts were small and flapped precariously in the ever-growing gust of the coming storm, and it rocked alarmingly in the churning waves.

"...Are you sure that boat won't sink?" Ace questioned. It was one that both of them would probably like answered.

"Oh, u-um, I'm sure it's s-safe," The boy stuttered. "You two should go now, b-before the storm comes and it becomes impossible to sail the waters." Shirley was already making her way carefully down onto the sea-soaked deck of the ship, Ace looking at her like she was going crazy.

"You're actually going to sail in _that?_" Ace said bluntly. "It looks like it couldn't go five minutes in this weather!"

Shirley glared at him. "Yeah, well, I don't see you coming up with any better ideas, Sherlock," She retorted. "We don't have a choice anyway; it's for the sake of the mission. Now get on, or stay there and don't let me ever see your face again."

Growling, Ace warily lowered himself onto the ship. Muttering darkly, he said under his breath, "I really don't trust that kid."

"What was that?" Shirley snapped, whipping her head over to face him.

"Nothing, nothing," Ace replied, quickly shaking it off. Rolling her eyes, Shirley turned back to the nervous-looking teenager.

"Thanks for the boat," She said with a smile. The boy blushed a crimson red, mumbling some incoherent words before walking briskly away.

Heaving a sigh, her thin but strong arms reached out and began to undo the tight knot that the rope was tied to the dock with. With a soft splash the rope dropped into the depths of the ocean, and, lifting her right leg up, Shirley used her foot to push them off from the dock. Slowly but surely, the tiny boat began to drift farther and farther away from the shore, and deeper into the impending tempest.

Back on the shore, the aforementioned dock boy was chatting shadily on a portable phone.

"Yes, yes. Sir, I told you, I got them to get onto that stupid little boat. Yeah, yeah, I know. Just give me the money already!" A pause. Then, his voice turned frantic. "Wait, what? I did what you asked! I _did what you asked!_ Don't you dare touch them! _DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH THEM!"_

Silence.

The only sound that met his ears was the horrible noise of the dial tone.

_--end of chapter VI.

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_

Phew! Wow, that took ages to write. I really do hope you guys like it :D Thank you to everyone who has favorite'd, subscribed, and reviewed this story! Feel free to hit that little green button and leave some comments... you know you want to.

Ah, and, for those of you that don't know what a _knorr_ is, it's supposed to be a traditional viking warship or something. -shrug- I read it in _East_ by Edith Pattou; it's a great book, read it sometime :D


	7. Chapter VII

A/N : Hello! I'm sorry for such a long gap between update dates. I've been working on this chapter slowly (but surely!) throughout the year so far. To be honest, it was really difficult to write this chapter, what with the loss of time and writer's block, so I hope you enjoy it!

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_Eye of the Storm  
Chapter VII _

"You stupid son of a bitch!" Shirley yelled as she grunted, struggling to keep the flapping sails from blowing away "You never told me you couldn't navigate a damn boat!"

"You never asked!" Ace shouted back as he climbed to the crow's nest to tie down said sails securely. Around them a ferocious storm raged, rain pounding the deck of the ship like bullets, thunder and lightning flashing in neon colors across the dark sky. The harsh waves rocked the ship back and forth as if it were a seesaw, the wind whistling in their ears.

Shirley ran to the steering wheel, spinning it starboard with no regard to the strain on the rudder. "I take a short nap and you get us into this storm! You idiot! How hard is it to follow a damn compass west?!"

"It's not my fault!" Ace retorted to his defense. "The damn thing started being weird!"

Shirley scowled as the wheel struggled against her grip, trying to turn portside. "What the hell do you mean 'weird'? What's so god damn weird about a compass? Nothing, that's what, you shit-for-brains!"

Ace pouted childishly, despite the rather grueling torrents whirling around in a frenzy.

"I can see it!" Shirley yelled all of a sudden. "The Reverse Mountain!" Up ahead, the dull crimson rock of the Red Line gleamed through the rain, offering a shining beacon of hope. "Okay kid! Listen to me carefully! We're going up Reverse Mountain! However, when we get to the peak, we have to veer starboard immediately! No hesitation! Otherwise we'll end up in the Grand Line!"

Surprisingly, Ace had a strangely serious expression on his face as she nodded and tightened his grip on the sails. "Here we go!"

And with one strong push, the ship was traveling quickly up the swift current to the peak of the mountain above the clouds.

--

Another two days passed before they finally reached Saida Island. Shirley managed to avoid conflict with Ace during this time, opting to nap rather than "see his butt ugly face that would make babies cry."

At last they docked at their destination, a beautiful and luxurious place with a pristine beach with pearl white sand, complete with palm trees and a resort. Near the heart of the island was an enormous marble fountain, with a delicately carved figure of a swan with its wings outstretched, water spewing from its beak. Behind it stood a casino, obviously the place of interest, as well as the main source of income for the city, for the many people who visited the island. Inlaid with precious jewels and meticulous architecture, it was indeed a sight to behold.

However, they hadn't come here to explore and enjoy what Lubalo City had to offer. Their attention was directed at a large mansion that sat atop a hill, overlooking the city—the home of Chris Rodriguez.

As Shirley firmly tied the boat to the dock, Ace stumbled off the ship and onto the steady land. Immediately he sunk to his knees. "Ah—land, sweet land! It feels like I haven't seen you in forever~" He sang as he worshiped the very ground beneath him. Shirley rolled her eyes in response.

"You're such a wussy," She said offhandedly, finishing up the knot she was working on. "Three days from land and you're crying already! What're you gonna do when we're back on the Grand Line, huh? When we're sailing for weeks at a time?"

"I'll figure something out," Ace retorted, offended. Scoffing, she got up from her crouched position and headed to town without the recruit, obviously having no care for him whatsoever. "Hey, wait for me! Damned temperamental bitch," Ace called, mumbling the last part.

"What was that?" She snapped, pausing to turn around and glare at him.

Ace turned some other way, smirking to himself. "Oh, nothing~"

Deciding not to bother with him when he was obviously a lost cause, she picked up her pace and headed straight into the hart of the city. Shirley took a quick glance behind her every once in a while to make sure Ace was still with her—the last thing she wanted as them to get separated and the old man to bitch about it. "Hurry up, stupid snail."

"Snail?" Ace questioned. "What kind of insult is that?"

"Er--" Shirley started, realizing with horror that it actually was a truly lame offense. In the middle of walking, something interrupted her train of thought while she was trying to think up a comeback.

"Welcomeeeeee to Saida Island! You look like you had a rough trip, sailor! So step right up and refresh yourself at our famous hot springs! The heat comes directly from the dormant volcano at the zenith of our island, Mt. Ojiyama! Come, come, relax and enjoy your stay at Saida Island!" A young man tugged on Shirley's arm, smiling widely. "Come, miss! You look emaciated and exhausted! You and your companion both should come stay at our inn! Only 20,000 beli per night!"

"Only?" Shirley replied in disgust. "That's so expensive!"

"Aww," Ace pouted. "But I wanna stay a hot springs inn!"

Shirley twitched. "What the hell are you, a five year old?" She proceeded to ignore the man that was advertising the man and walked past him.

"Shiiirrrrllleeeeyyyy!" Ace called, jogging to catch up to her. "Where are we going?"

"WILL YOU BE QUIET YOU LITTLE PIECE OF SHIT?!" She screamed. People stopped in their tracks to stare at her strangely. Huffing, she glared at the bystanders. "What the hell are you looking at? Didn't anyone tell you it's rude to stare?" Shirley growled. The throng of people immediately dispersed, whispering amongst themselves in hushed voices. "Stupid kid," She mumbled, blowing a strand of her coffee brown hair out of her face. "We're going to the casino to find some info." Shirley latched her hand onto the back of Ace's shirt and dragged him along.

–

"Why hello there, pretty miss! Are you up for a game of poker?" A pudgy, balding man asked, eying her like she was a piece of meat.

"Why, of course I am!" Shirley gushed, putting on a show of wide, innocent eyes and blush on her face. Heck, she even offered that pedophile her hand!

His crewmate locked eyes with him for a second, and suddenly he was drowning in the swirls of her irises. He never noticed that sometimes you could see flecks of a dull gold if you looked closely--

"Ace, sweetheart, would you be a dear and lend me some money? 60,000 beli should be fine," She said in a silky, seductive voice.

What the hell! This was Shirley? The Shirley that had, not even an hour prior, told him to "Shut the fuck up" on the streets?

No. No way.

Shit, she was batting her eyelashes at him now.

The old man besides her frowned. "Ah, only 60,000? Are you sure about that? It might not be quite enough..."

Shirley whirled her head around to face him. Her hair dramatically flew from one shoulder to another; apparently the effect worked, because the man definitely had all his attention on her now. "Don't worry about me," She whispered in his ear. With her left hand, she gently tugged on his stiff white collar. "I'll win 10 times that by tonight's end."

Ace felt himself flush with anger. What the hell did she think she was doing? That man--! He could've--!

The lecherous old bachelor's beady, watery eyes began to trail over her generous body, in such close proximity to his own. His disgustingly puce pink tongue darted out to roll over his chapped lips.

Shirley twitched inwardly. It took all the self-restraint she had not to punch this guy's piggy little face.

"Well? What are we waiting for? Let's go!" Shirley said gleefully, grabbing the money out of Ace's hand that he had unknowingly taken out, dragging the man into the crowded casino. She flashed Ace an insidious look with her eyes twinkling. _Watch and learn._

–

"Yayy! I win again!~" Shirley crowed as she raked in the chips into her growing pile. The men looked on in disbelief as they watched their money get sucked away by a woman who didn't look a day past 18.

She grinned cheekily as she placed her hands on her hips triumphantly as she faced the other contenders. "Anyone else?" She called out, expectant. Her cheeks were tinged a light pink and she seemed pretty steady on her feet for someone who'd downed several shots of whiskey not three hours ago.

The men shuffled uncomfortably amongst themselves as they deliberated playing another game. Total, they'd lost over 500,000 beli.

Shirley pouted immaturely. "Aww, no one?" She whined, her bottom lip stuck out and quivering. A few men coughed and turned away, refusing to look at the inebriated vixen.

"Fineeee!" Shirley conceded, throwing her hands up. "You all are no fun." She mumbled, staggering drunkenly over to Ace, who had fallen asleep in a chair somewhere close by. Waving a carefree hand over at the men she'd just owned in poker, she let a grin spread across her face. Needless to say, she did not get many enthusiastic waves back.

She poked the buff teen's arm with a frown. "Yo, kid," Shirley said. "Yuh ready t'go home yet?" She slurred. Ace made a disgruntled face as he shifted in his sleep. "Stupid kid, wake up," She grumbled, punching him in the arm. Groaning, he reluctantly woke up.

"You reek of alcohol," He stated, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Have you been drinking?"

Shirley rolled her eyes in response. "Did ja really jus' ask that?" She replied. "It's a damn casino, of course I've been drinkin'! 'Sides, I wanna go home now. S'getting late."

Ace got up, stretching his arms above his head. "Fine, let's go." Shirley let out a very uncharacteristic girly giggle, staggering her way to the front doors of the casino. It was well past midnight – the patrons had mostly left except for the wealthy ones who had money to spend and time to kill.

The night air engulfed them both, casting a cool blanket over the two. Shirley sucked in deep gulps of air like her life depended on it, twirling in a circle with her arms outstretched. She smiled, truly smiled – even if it was just a drunken smile, it was still one nonetheless. Ace watched with interest as she stumbled over her two feet and finally tripped face-first onto the paved rock roads. Ace stood by her, looking down expectantly with his arms folded in front of his chest. "You need help?" He asked flippantly.

Shirley didn't move.

He raised an eyebrow. "Shirley? Let's get going now, okay?"

Still no response.

Ace crouched, looking at her. She seemed fine, no bleeding or anything, just a few scratches. She was still breathing, slowly and steadily...

Oh. Pfft. She was sleeping.

He sighed, running a hand through his already tousled hair. Well, he couldn't really just leave her here...

A few minutes later, he had her on his back, piggyback style. Her head laid on his left shoulder, her right cheek pressing against his collarbone and her thick tresses splayed in all directions, covering parts of her face and neck. Her breasts were squashed against his back, obviously present, but he made a mental note to himself that if she ever found out he'd bee thinking about them, he'd be blind the next day, and therefore decided not to brood on it.

And thus he began the trek back to the port.

It was a nice night; the weak wind flapped his open shirt around, playing with it like a seesaw – one way, then the other. One way, then the other.

Barely ten minutes had passed before Shirley stirred.

Needless to say, it wasn't the reaction he expected.

"Mmm," She murmured, rubbing her cheek against his broad shoulder. "You're warm."

Ace smirked. It was... nice, to have her say something normal for once instead of barking curses at him. Suddenly his heart felt heavy in his chest, like someone had attached a brick weight to it.

Shirley let out what Ace assumed was a small laugh. "Hey, kid," She said softly. "You ever been in love?"

"No." The response was automatic. Ace was hardly a virgin, though. Sure, he'd had fun with girls before, but it was more like a fuck and run. It didn't mean shit about loving them. No, back then, they'd only wanted him for his body and the rumors that he was amazing in bed; he'd only wanted them to relieve some stress.

He could almost feel the smirk that curved her lips. "Of course," She whispered more to herself than anything, closing her eyes. "You're only 17. The most you've experienced is puppy love." Ace would have loved to say something in retort to that but decided against it, since she'd probably forget it in the morning anyways.

A couple more minutes ensued, the silence awkward and tense. They'd nearly reached the epicenter of the town now, where the cream marble fountain sat.

"Julian," Shirley said suddenly. "His name was Julian."

Ace felt his heart clench painfully at the mention of another man's name when uttered by her. "What?"

"My ex-boyfriend." She said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"Oh." He replied lamely. Ace shifted her weight, pausing for a moment before continuing to walk.

"Yeah," She said quietly. "I loved him. He was my best friend, the brother I never had." A pause. "I lost my virginity to him too," She added as an afterthought. "He was also my third cousin."

Ace gave a stiff nod, gritting his teeth. Nice to know she was into incest. And that she liked to talk about her ex-boyfriend and losing her virginity to him. The grip on his heart grew, making it hard to breathe now.

Shirley sighed and mumbled something nearly inaudible. It didn't really quite make sense to him, but it struck a chord in his heart anyway. "Sorry."

_--end of chapter VII.

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_

I gave up editing this in the end. Anyway, please review! (: Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter VIII

A/N: Hello hello again. Sorry I haven't been updating as much as I should. Inspiration hasn't struck me for this chapter yet. A few notes:

*I got a review saying Ace is OOC. I'm trying to fix his character; I don't want to make him a playboy, because manga doesn't show it... I think. Feel free to correct me. Developing my own Ace.

*Incest last chapter. If a lot of people are against it, I'll take it out. It's actually not that bad. Wiki "cousin".

Thanks to Kuro Neko to Kuro Bara, XxStrawberryKittyxX, Captain Riley, ang694, GrimmjowsGirl1, KonkekoKallen, and moonlit nocturne (won't allow me to put a period, sorry) for reviewing! You guys are what keep me going :)

Anyway, my ramble has gone on long enough. Please enjoy!

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_Eye of the Storm  
Chapter VIII_

"A room for two, please," Ace grunted to the receptionist who was dozing off at the counter as a knocked-out Shirley laid on his back, cheek planted on his shoulder. In the end, he'd opted to go to the hotel instead of back to their ship, because frankly, wouldn't it be more convenient anyway? The dock was someways away from the town, and if they were to complete whatever this mission was they'd most likely have to mingle in the town every day.

The middle-aged woman blinked sleepily a few times before yawning and reaching for a notebook with lists of people of various rooms. Scanning through it, she let out an exasperated sigh before closing it. "We've only got a room for couples. We're booked everywhere else." She droned lazily, resting her cheek in her left palm and closing her eyes again.

Ace frowned. A couples' room usually only had one bed. He wanted to get some sleep too... and the cost was rather hefty. If she ever found out he'd spent so much money on a hotel room, she'd kill him. But, this one was the closest, and he was getting tired from being awake at 3AM...

"I'll take it," He said hesitantly.

The woman held out her hand. "25,000 beli, please."

"But a guy earlier today advertised it as 20,000 beli!" Ace argued, peeved. The girl shrugged nonchalantly.

"Those are for normal rooms. You want a couples' room, you pay more." She sneered rudely. "You gonna take it or not?" Her spidery fingers curled in rhythm, beckoning. Arranging the woman on his back so that he wouldn't drop her, he reached into his pack (because he knew his crew mate would strangle him if he ever touched her "hard-earned" money), Ace drew out a wad of cash and counted out the required amount before carefully placing it back. As soon as she produced the key, he grabbed it and shoved it into his pant pocket.

A few minutes later, he arrived at a couples' suite a few floors up – room 274. Fishing the key out, he slipped it into the hole and a soft _click_ was heard as the door swung open.

He was right, there was only one bed. Though more than large enough to accommodate two people, he knew that if Shirley woke up with him by her side again she'd have a fit. So, he did the gentlemanly thing and laid her down on the bed. She mumbled something inaudible before turning onto her side, curling into her body like a cat.

Ace stared at her for a little longer as his eyes trailed over her knocked out form; an arm was hidden under the pillow, the other pressed to her chest. He had to break himself out of the trance that his mind was hypnotizing him with imaginings of what he _could_ have done...

He took a seat in the plush couch next to the window. Slumping in it, he threw his arms over the armrests and laid his head back, closing his eyes. The curtains were closed, but thin enough that he could see the crescent moon peering through. Bright yet dull, it was a beacon in the otherwise black night.

For now, sleep would be good for him. _Yeah... sleep..._

–

Ace awoke to the ticked off look of Shirley glaring at him not three inches away from his face. Startled, he smirked and leaned forward, closing the gap between them so that they were dangerously close. Shirley promptly pulled back, turning the other way. "W-what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I should be asking you that," He replied coolly.

Clearing her throat, she quickly regained her composure. "What the hell were you thinking, getting such an expensive suite?" She mumbled darkly.

He argued, "It was the only one they had. Shit, is this the thanks I get for carrying you back to the hotel? And what the hell was up with your ramblings last night?"

Shirley frowned, her eyebrows curling downwards along with her mood. "What the fuck are you talking about? What ramblings? Whatever I said, don't listen to it, cause I was drunk. It's a miracle I don't have a hangover..." She massaged her temple with her thumb and index finger, looking away. "Besides, that's not the point. We've both overslept and we need to gather information as soon as possible. I don't want to have to stick around longer than we need to."

Walking over to her bed, she rummaged through the pack she'd brought, tossing a clean shirt and a pair of shorts towards her partner, both landing comically on his head. Grunting, he pulled the clothes into his lap, staring at the hideous attire she'd given him; another one of those floral print button-down t-shirts and a pair of red cargo shorts. Really, now?

He changed quietly as Shirley grabbed her choice of clothes for the day and headed into the bathroom, obviously not about to strip in front of a male. She emerged a few minutes later in another white tank top and a pair of jean shorts. Shirley donned a grey cardigan over her tank top, letting it hang over her frame. Her hair, messy as ever, was tied into a loose bun at the nape of her neck to futilely try and conceal its lack of neatness. As usual, Dreamweaver was loyally at her left hip, hanging loosely.

"Hurry up and let's go down." She was already at the door, tapping her foot impatiently.

"Oi, wait up!" Ace called, hurrying after her, seeing as she was already halfway down the hall. "And really, do I have to wear this ugly shirt?" He whined, tugging at it. "I'd rather have no shirt on at all." He'd left it unbuttoned so that his toned chest was showing, and it was clear that all the women waking up and crowding the elevator with them were interested.

"I'm sure you would," She muttered under her breath. Ace looked over since he'd heard her say something, but quickly excused it when Shirley ignored him. The female rolled her eyes exasperatedly. "Yes, and button it up while you're at it." She scolded as he continued to fiddle with it. He groaned. "You're attracting unnecessary attention."

"Whatever," Came his light reply. "So what's the plan for today?"

"We're gonna go into town and gather more information," Shirley explained as they stood in the middle of the atrium. "I'm going back to the casino and you're going to... wherever the hell you want to go. I don't care what method you use, but get us something about Chris's bodyguards, or his security system, or anything that will help us infiltrate his home."

The teen grinned. "Finally, some fun!"

The woman rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure. Just get info and maybe I'll treat you to dinner tonight or something." For some reason, his unusual enthusiasm irked her. It was probably just because it was early morning – ah, whatever. Let the kid be.

"Okay. Let's head out now. We'll rendezvous at the fountain at 8. Don't be late." She said, finality in her voice. Heading out, she made a beeline towards her destination while Ace turned towards his.

–

It had been seven hours. Seven. Fucking. Hours. And she had not gained a drop of information.

Really, was money all these obese old men could talk about? She had even dropped a hint about Chris, but nooo, they all avoided the subject! What the hell! Was it that secretive? It wasn't like it was a covert operation. He lived in a god damn mansion at the highest peak of town, for god's sake!

At only 5 pm, Shirley was officially bored out of her mind. So, her pockets a bit more heavier than they were before, she exited the casino to walk around the town before the designated time. Stretching her arms in front of her, she rolled her shoulders to get out the numbness of sitting around and to forget (she shivered) flirting with rich bachelors all day. She placed her thumbs in the pockets of her cardigan, flexing her fingers, her shoulders slumped as she casually strode around the city.

If anything, Shirley had to admit that this town had its diversity. There were people of all ages and sizes, holding hands and chatting and enjoying _life_.

Shirley snorted. She wished _she_ could do that. Stupid life.

Unbeknownst to her, she had walked to the front of a rather ritzy looking building. It looked like a hotel... a really expensive hotel. It was painted in gold, a few floors tall, with burly security guards at the door. All the windows were tinted black, for some reason. She didn't realize where she was until she saw the scantily-clad women walk out of the "hotel" in 3 inch stilettos and nothing but a bikini.

Oh. It was the whore house.

_Of course,_ she thought to herself sourly. _Of all places, I end up here. I bet everyone's going to think that I'm here because of a part time job or something._

Turning away, the piratress was about to make her getaway before misunderstandings were made – but a familiar voice pierced her thoughts.

"Ah, babe, you really are the best," The voice said lightly. A shuffled told her that he'd draped his arm around the woman's shoulders. "We should get together sometime again."

"Mm, you're such a tease! But I know you won't come back," Came a whiny female's voice. "You're gonna be like all the other men, and leave me alone!"

The masculine voice hesitated before faking a sigh. "Well, I can't deny that I might not ever come back--"

"See? You're just like all the others!" The female's voice was accusing, hurtful.

She could practically hear the gears turning as he scrambled for an excuse. "Listen, babe--"

_Oh no._ Shirley thought. _He did _not_ go to that place._

_ Someone's going to _die.

"No! Don't you 'listen babe' me! I've gotten that too many times! Screw you all! I quit!" The woman violently stomped her foot before storming off to who-knows-where, leaving a stunned Ace in her wake.

She let out a small laugh of disbelief before slapping her forehead. Of course this scene was true! This was the kid she was talking about! Shirley scoffed and honestly thought about walking away from the scene before deciding that, if she didn't act now, he would probably be sulking later. Her heart thumped in her chest, and an unusual weight was placed on it. She shrugged it off, thinking that it was just from the tension. "Yo," She grunted, prejudices aside. "You get any info?" Straight to business.

Ace scoffed a bit before running a hand through his messy hair. "I _would_ have gotten more if that girl hadn't run off --"

"Stop making excuses," Shirley interjected, already annoyed. "Did you or did you not get any info? If you're wondering, my rounds were fruitless. So, if you don't have anything, we're back to square one. Which means we'll have to go on an infiltration mission, and I'd rather not do that."

The teen sighed, rolling his shoulders. She kept her eyes firmly locked on his face. "Yeah, I did. Apparently, in a few days, the guy's hosting an annual masquerade ball for all the townspeople to come and enjoy themselves. Who would've known that such a dangerous guy was holding a public gathering..."

Shirley nodded. "That's perfect. We can get in under the disguise of one of the citizens and get an idea of the layout of the place."

Placing her lips in a firm line, Shirley reluctantly said, "You did good. Now how about that dinner that I was talking about earlier?"

He grinned. "You sure about that? I kind of eat a lot... just to warn you."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure it's fine. Most men are pigs anyway."

–

God, when he said he ate a lot, he meant it.

So far, he had finished off 10 main dishes, 7 sides, 6 appetizers, 8 mugs of sake, and numerous small desserts. Shirley looked disdainfully at her thinning wallet before paying at the cashier, a bit peeved at all the money she'd sacrificed for him.

"Yoo shoush shry shome! (You should try some)" Ace said with a mouthful of mashed potatoes, holding out a spoon. "Ish really good!" Shirley politely declined (she couldn't exactly yell at him for his manners while they were in a public restaurant, damn it) before leaning back in her chair with her legs crossed, waiting patiently for him to finish.

In the middle of his gobbling, his face planted into the food for a few seconds before shooting up and continuing to eat as if nothing happened.

Shirley, however, noticed the momentary lapse (as well as the bits of food stuck to the soft stubble on his chin – ugh, he needed to shave) and eyed him inquisitively. He fell asleep while standing up (according to Marco...), he fell asleep outside the meeting room door, and now while eating?

"Hey, kid," She prodded bluntly at his forehead. "What's with you and all this random sleeping?"

"I have narcolepsy," He replied casually. Shirley was slightly taken aback but not surprised. Narcolepsy? Well, that explained a lot...

"I... see," She responded, unsure how to reply to that. Huffing, she crossed her legs and arms under her chest. "Well, hurry up. I don't want to stay here all night." He merely nodded as he continued to finish up the remainder of their orders.

Shirley sighed, pressing her cheek against her palm. This kid... just what the hell was he doing?

–

For the next few days, the pair busied themselves with scrambling enough money in order to afford the proper attires for the upcoming ball (Shirley gambling, Ace... well, Shirley wasn't really sure what he was doing, but whatever he did, it paid really well). She'd managed to (she hadn't really counted) at least double the money she'd initially brought, which was definitely a good thing. In the end, she'd managed to find a decent outfit, not too stand-outish but not too under-dressed, either.

On the night of the occasion, Shirley ardently clipped her sword to a pair of shorts she wore underneath the dress she purchased the day before. Dreamweaver laid flat against her leg, like a child hugging her mother. Satisfied, she went to the bathroom with her change of clothes and locked the door behind her (not that that kid would _dare_ to enter, but it was better to be safe) and exchanged the polo she'd worn that day for a white tube top before slipping the dress on.

Pale green, like a painting that sat in the sun for too long. Beads adorned the top edges of the gown, outlining it. The skirt flowed out like budded flower, slightly ruffled. It did well to cover up the fact that she hid a sword underneath it all.

Besides the dress, she did not care to do anything else. To counter her usual bird's nest hair, the pirate merely let it down freely, brushing it hastily to get rid of any last-minute tangles. When Ace saw her, he was rather surprised. She looked... well, he wasn't sure how to describe her. Her being the commander of the 2nd division was clear as her toned arms definitely stood out in contrast to the simple gown she wore. Her hair still looked messy, but better than usual since she'd actually taken the time to work out the kinks in it. And to be completely honest, he didn't think she really had the boobs to do the dress justice...

She turned around. "Can you see it?" Shirley demanded, putting her hands on her waist (she would have put them on her hips, but they were covered by the full skirt and it seemed a bit too awkward).

Ace blinked. "See what? The tattoo?" Wait... since when did she have a tattoo?

"Dreamweaver," She said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Ace was puzzled. "Dreamweaver? What's that?"

Shirley sighed before face-palming herself. "My _sword_."

"You named your sword?"

"Shut up and tell me if you can see it!"

"No," He replied dumbly. "Am I supposed to?"

"No," Came Shirley's response. "You're not."

"...Okay," Ace said slowly, still unsure. "What about the weird tattoo?"

"What?" She barked, before twisting her head around to see what he was talking about. However, halfway through the motion, she stopped and let out a small laugh. "Oh. That. It's my Whitebeard tattoo. Everyone's required to have one."

"Does this mean I'm gonna get one too?" Ace asked. He hadn't thought he'd get another tattoo so soon, especially after that crap artist messed up his name...

"You'll get one when we get back," Shirley explained, remarkably calm. "You don't need to get one as big or as bold as mine; as a Commander, we're mandated to have at least two on our body, one of which must be large enough for enemies to see."

Shirley yanked at her dress, trying to pull the bodice up a bit. "We're gonna go in as local citizens. Oh yeah, here's yours," She tossed him a red masquerade mask in the design of a lion's head, mane and all.

Ace raised an eyebrow. "A lion? Really?"

"Shut up and put it on," Shirley snapped. She herself held up a blue fox design. "Like I said, we're gonna get in, and do whatever the hell they do. Then when Chris comes out, whoever's closest will tail him out of the party. The other will slip out _undetected_," She stressed this, knowing if the brat played this role it would probably fail. "and head out to incapacitate the guards outside. Hopefully whoever gets that job won't cause too much of a racket, so the ball can keep going."

"Wait wait," Ace interjected. "Why are we tailing Chris?"

Disbelief crossed her face. "You can't _honestly _be asking that three hours before the fucking plan's supposed to be carried out." Throwing her hands up in sarcastic elation, she said, "We're supposed to _kill_ Chris, remember? Assassinate? Murder? Get rid of him?"

"What the hell!" Ace yelled. "Hey man, I didn't sign up for this. I didn't even know we were coming here to kill someone!"

"So what, did you think we came here for a vacation?" Shirley sneered. "You were there eavesdropping on our meeting. You should know all this crap besides what he looks like."

The teen's eyebrows furrowed. "No. I was sleeping. I didn't hear anything."

Shirley let out a small sigh of annoyance. "Great. Just great. I'm stuck with a dimwit who doesn't know what the hell he's doing. Way to go, Shanks." She muttered darkly.

"Can't we just lock him up?" Ace suggested.

"No," She snarled. "Because killing him is our god damn mission. We're _supposed _to kill him. Not incapacitate him. Not lock him up. Not torture him. _Kill_ him. Do. You. Understand?"

He was about to give a retort before finding that Shirley's glare locked on his own, flashing a warning; _do not try._

"We're going now," She growled. "I don't give a fuck what you do. Stay here or go. Just don't get in the way of the plan."

And with that, the haughty pirate stormed out of their temporary lodging and towards the swarm of people streaming towards the mansion on the hill.

--_end of chapter VIII._

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Yeah... um... about any OOCness... I tried my best? -cowers-

PLEASE VOTE IN THE POLL ON MY PROFILE. VERY IMPORTANT. PLEASE. PLEASE PLEASE check out the update on my profile too.

I've made minor changes to the past chapters. They're not _that _important... I changed a name of an island, took out Monkey D. Dragon in the first chapter (okay, that's kind of significant...), and will be changing the chapter where Marco comes into Shirley's room with two guns... because, clearly, he doesn't use guns.

Also, to clear up any confusion... Ace has NOT gotten his devil fruit yet in this fic. He will be getting it in later chapters, though. I have plans for it.

This chapter will most likely be edited in the future, despite the week of revisions and corrections it's gone through.

I am _very_ unsatisfied with this chapter. I ask that you pardon me this time... I just thought that I've been withholding this chapter from everyone for so long ): I swear the next one will be better. Yes! I am convinced the next one will be better. Please review?


	9. Chapter IX

A/N: I. FINALLY. FINISHED. -dead- (12/5/10)

Not much to say. Last chapter must have sucked, because I didn't get that many reviews :/ thanks to xdrake24, ThexWhitexPhoenix, hazu23, i88, and Mangageek for reviewing!

_Eye of the Storm  
Chapter IX_

To say that Rodriguez's mansion was crowded was an understatement. It was filled to the brim with debutantes and men who acted as if they were on top of the world. Busty women wearing corsets hobbled inside in three inch heels, looking absolutely ridiculous with their guts prominent against their skin-tight excuses for dresses – they might as well have strode in naked. Two bodyguards – both muscular and wearing black suits – stood on either side of the entrance, dark sunglasses obscuring their eyes from view. Shirley slipped herself in with a particularly large crowd making their way inside, shuffling along slowly with her gown sweeping along the immaculate ground.

_I guess he really isn't coming,_ she thought to herself. She rolled her eyes. _Whatever. Not that I _need_ him for this mission to succeed, anyway._

Once successfully infiltrated – not that she really expected much resistance, seeing as it _was_ a masquerade party – she scanned the floor for suspicious people who might hinder her job. So far, the only dangers that were posed were drunken women who swayed precariously and raucous men who swung their arms across the bare shoulders of said women. Oh, and maybe an awkward teenager going to their first real party, but in all actuality, it seemed rather... safe.

Ha. What a joke. _Safety_ wasn't a word that was applied to a pirate.

As Shirley walked over to the luscious buffet table and grabbed a plate to gather a few appetizers, a girl, no older than 15, strode up to her. She smiled shyly, apparently trying to attract Shirley's attention... but of course, being Shirley, she ignored her. Finally, the girl spoke up. "Um –"

"What?" It had come out sharper than she had intended, and she watched as the girl flinched.

"I-I was wondering if... if you'd seen Master Rodriguez," The girl said softly.

Shirley turned to face her, eyebrows raised. _Master_ Rodriguez? So was this girl a servant?

"No," Came her prim response. "I haven't."

"A-ah," She stammered. "Alright. I'm very sorry to have bothered you ma'am." And so she left.

Shirley watched her walk away before frowning and going about on her way. That was strange... if this was Rodriguez's party, shouldn't the servants know where he was?

Before she had time to ponder it though, a young man confidently strode up to her and smiled. He donned an azure mask in the elaborate shape of a peacock's feathers, the counterfeit plumes framing his short pitch-black hair. He bowed, offering Shirley his right hand. "May I have this dance?"

"Er..." She started, swiveling her eyes away from the man. Her right hand latched onto her left arm as she scowled. "I... don't know how to dance." She finished lamely. Her cheeks were dyed a rich hue of red from embarrassment.

He smiled, flashing impossibly white teeth. "Then allow me the pleasure of teaching you how to." Without bothering to hear her reply, he took her hand in his. Shirley cursed under her breath as she stumbled along the way – such bothersome heels. Why women even wore them was a mystery to her.

He was a very patient man, she had to admit. Not even five minutes into the song and she was sure she'd stepped on his foot at least three times. Shirley was not usually a timid woman, nor was she one to be quiet, but at the moment she did certainly portray herself as one. Her clumsiness only led to the increase of her quickly muttered "Sorry"s and becoming more and more flustered as she continued to stab his feet with her heels. However, not once did he complain, instead allowing small words of encouragement; "Just slow, small steps," "Right step, left step, right, left. There you go!"

"You're improving! Think you could loosen your grip though, dear? I think a bruise may be forming there," He grimaced. Shirley hastily removed her hand before stepping away quickly, almost tripping. He made a move to grab her if she fell, but since she didn't, he retained a rather awkward position. Despite this, he merely smiled. "Excuse me for asking this, miss," He said pleasantly. "But I couldn't help but notice that you seem to have a large.. tattoo... on your back?"

A slew of profanities ran through her head as Shirley pressed her lips into a hard line. "Ah... yes," She replied smoothly. "It's something I got... a long time ago."

"Oh really now?" He said. "That's interesting. I was just wondering, because it looks almost like the Whitebeard pirates' insignia."

More curses. _I knew I should have worn that wrap_. "Really now?" She said, unfaltering. "That's quite interesting. The Whitebeard pirates are those notorious pirates under the man who was the former Pirate King's rival, was he not?" Shirley said. She smiled, though she immediately regretted it as she felt the corners of her mouth trembling from the extra effort. A few seconds later, though, the music came to a cadence, and she stepped back. As she looked up at him again, something familiar caught her eye, but she couldn't tell what.

"Thank you for the dance," She said, inhaling sharply and turning away. His shoulders... she felt like she'd... well, it couldn't be right anyway...

"Your mask is quite exquisite, Miss Dartmouth," He called after her.

She stood still and narrowed her eyes as his figure meshed with the other forms dancing. How did he know that name...?

Shirley didn't have time to ponder before a couple bumped into her. They slurred apologies before the girl erupted into giggles as the man placed his hand back upon her waist and they made their way back onto the dance floor.

Shrugging it off, Shirley walked back to her former spot near the buffet table and observed as the various townspeople laughed and enjoyed themselves to the fullest. More scanning of the room made her notice the amount of servants running around with worried and confused expressions. They whispered amongst themselves, exchanging concerned looks and scurrying off to serve more food or clean up after the guests. As she discreetly passed by a few, Shirley caught snippets of their conversations.

"Do you know where Master is?"

"I heard he's intoxicated himself somewhere,"

"I heard his mother passed away!"

"No no no, I heard that poor Romeo is down with the flu—"

Her thoughts were interrupted by a familiar voice. "May I have this dance?" A mess of shoulder-length black hair fell behind a flamboyant lion mask as he bowed his head, a smirk on his face.

She suppressed a snort. "So you came after all. Are you ready to do this mission?"

A pause. "I've already gathered more info than you probably have, _Commander._" He mocked, though he couldn't keep the grim look off his face.

Shirley grinned. That was what she liked. "Well, let's hear it." She replied curtly as she placed her hand in his own and he led out onto the dance floor. "And just to warn you, I can't dance," She mumbled almost incoherently.

As he placed his hand on her waist, goosebumps ran up her body; it was a strange sensation, seeing as it was neither cold nor hot, and it wasn't like she had never been touched there before. But before she could ponder the occurrence, his voice cut through: "Chris Rodriguez is to make an appearance at midnight sharp on the stage to greet all the guests."

Shirley raised an eyebrow. "Oh?" She said. "And where did you get said info?"

To this he merely smirked. "I have my ways," He said offhandedly. He twirled her and the bottom of her gown ballooned out as air rushed under it. She nearly fell over in the process if it weren't for his secure grip on her waist. "Don't worry, I won't let you fall," He whispered in her ear, amused. Shirley blushed at the statement.

"As if I'd fall, you a-" She was cut off as he dipped her body back. He brought his face down just in front of hers, and she could feel the warm puffs of breath when he exhaled; count the freckles that adorned the tops of his cheeks; the way his messy hair, wet with perspiration, stuck to his forehead; taste his unusual scent of seawater and ash; his lips, the wind-chapped lips that had, perhaps, ravaged a woman's mouth elsewhere, taking with it a shred of innocence, or perhaps had roamed along the skin of-

"Thank you for the dance," She mumbled, keeping her head low. Without another word, she walked off into another throng of people chatting.

-x-

_God, what _was_ that, Shirley? _She thought to herself distractedly. Her partner had already gone off to do who-knows-what, and here she was standing pathetically next to the buffet table... again. It seemed to be her fallback spot, and to be honest, it wasn't a very good one. For being the captain of the assassination squad, Shirley was pretty much failing at being stealthy. Her heart thumped like a rabbit's and her cheeks were still flushed from the intensity of the dance. Ace was already off with another woman, smiling and chatting with her casually, and Shirley's heart twisted inside her chest. She unknowingly glared at the two, and passerby wondered what was wrong. Perhaps a jealous lover, which was exactly what Shirley was acting like now.

_No!_ Shirley violently shoved that thought out of her mind. Glancing over at the clock in the corner, she realized that it was 11:50PM. Growling, she mentally slapped herself; she'd been too absorbed in her own thoughts that she hadn't noticed that it was almost time for Chris's scheduled appearance.

It seemed like an eternity before the clock finally began its 12 chimes signaling midnight. She briskly walked over to get as good a view as she could from the stage; this way she would be able to see which way Rodriguez would go when he makes his exit whenever he finished with this... whatever it was... a speech? A few seconds later she spotted Ace on the opposite side of the stage, also keenly looking out for possible passages out. At least she knew he was doing his job. Shirley mentally thanked whatever had made him realize he had balls and that he would have to take part in this mission no matter what... it made her job a hell of a lot easier.

Suddenly the lights were shut down and the entire hall was plunged into darkness. Alarmed shouts and murmurs filled the hall like an annoying fly buzzing near one's ears. A few seconds later, a spotlight shone upon the stage, revealing a young man with dark hair and a familiar blue mask.

"Welcome!" He exclaimed, spreading his arms out grandly. "Tonight's masquerade has been a pleasure, thanks to everyone here who has so kindly joined us," He paused to brush some hair out of his face. "And, as I'm sure all of you have been just _so_ impatient to see tonight's host! So, without further ado, I present to you all... Christopher Rodriguez!"

A scream. Horrified yells, and running towards the nearest exits... which were conveniently blocked off. Shirley pivoted her head left and right – what was going on?

"Shirley!" A masculine voice shouted, grabbing ahold of her left arm. "Look up there! At the stage!" She did. And what she saw was enough to make her stomach do somersaults.

Oh, Christopher Rodriguez was there, alright. He was there. Dead. Mutilated. It was simply... horrible, the way he'd been carved up – it was like someone treated his body like a doll and had decided to rip out all the cotton inside so it looked like a poor chew toy. His innards hung out limply like wet noodles, and the blood, which would normally be a bright red, was brown, dried, and crusted. His eyes were wide open in silent horror and his mouth open, just hanging as if his jaw had been broken. His left arm was bent in an odd way, as was his right leg. Shirley almost pitied him for the way he looked – it was a good thing he died. If he were still alive, the agony he would have faced would have been... simply unfathomable.

Maniacal laughter filled the cavernous room as the spotlight moved and refocused on the mysterious announcer from before, clutching his stomach as the two tails of his waistcoat bounced behind him. His mask, the beautiful sapphire mask, fell off, revealing sharp green eyes, piercing like a blade of grass – literally. A wide grin spread across his face as he stood up, still smiling. "Ladies and gentlemen!" He cried, raising a gloved hand. "Now... this is when the fun begins!" The lights promptly went out again, this time followed by the shuffling of many people and the shrieks of women filling the silence.

In the darkness she felt Ace grab onto her wrist urgently. "Shirley!" He hissed. "Let's get out of here before something happens-"

But before she could respond, she heard a grunt and large thud beside her, and the grasp on her wrist suddenly lax. "Ace?" She whispered, groping around. "Hey, brat, where the hell did you go-" A hand clamped down from behind her, gagging her with a cloth. A wet cloth. _Oh shi-_

And she was no longer conscious.

-x-

She awoke to a chilliness befit to the North Blue, and a painful throbbing on the left side of her head that persisted like a woodpecker drilling away at a tree. Moaning softly, she lifted a hand and touched her – at least, she assumed – wound. She winced, though she was surprised to see that it was bandaged. The fact that it wasn't bleeding... this person knew she had hemophilia.

Just who was it that had taken her captive?

She gingerly sat up, rubbing her arms for warmth while allowing her eyes to adjust to the lack of light. There was a dim lantern lit outside her... cell? The walls were made of rock, rough and uneven, yet smooth and cool to the touch. Shirley also noticed, with a note of disgust, that someone had taken the liberty of removing her dress, so that she was left in her tube top and shorts. Dreamweaver was also nowhere to be found; otherwise, all her belongings were with her.

Her ears perked up as she heard echoing footsteps draw closer to her. Curious yet wary, she approached the front of her barred cell, squinting in the darkness.

A familiar, wide grin. "Shirley, my dear, I see you have awoken," He said smoothly. His hair was black, and his eyes were jade green. Sharp and piercing like a grass blade.

She inhaled sharply and bit her bottom lip to hold back the onslaught of insults that were ready to pounce out of her mouth. Shirley let out a slow, shaky breath. "You," She breathed. She closed her eyes, suddenly feeling as though as she had not slept in days, eyelids so heavy she wasn't sure if she would be able to open them again. "Did you think that just because you had dyed your hair I would not have recognized you?"

His grin grew wider. "You did not seem to recognize me during the dance, dearest."

"Shut up," She spat. "You have no right to speak to me after what you did... Julian."

-_end of chapter IX._

A/N: Shoot me now. I suck at this. Anyway, I've decided that from TODAY ONWARDS, I will begin to REWRITE _Eye of the Storm_. I'm not sure if I will delete this story and put up a new one or if I will replace the chapters. And I will be writing chapter 10 at the same time, so whenever that goes up... Also note that the rating has gone up to M.

Thank you for reading, and please review!


	10. Chapter X

A/N: (6/6/11) I've finally started this chapter after six months. We'll see how much longer this takes. NO, I'm NOT abandoning this. And NO, I'm not rewriting this. Too much work, too little time. Though I did rewrite the first chapter and I'm planning on editing the rest (NOT rewriting, just fixing some grammatical errors and a few things I didn't like). Thank you to ThexWhitexPhoenix, xdrake24, Shiary, SerialKiller24, and Ophelia deCanards for reviewing! I really appreciate it!

_Eye of the Storm  
__Chapter X_

Julian reached out a hand through the seastone bars, making to stroke her cheek, but she spat at his face before he could get close to her. Disdainfully, he wiped off the saliva with a frown. "I see your manners have deteriorated throughout the years," he commented dryly.

"Bite me," she growled. "Where am I?"

He _tsk_ed, granting her a small smile. "Now, now, Shirley. If I told you that, that would take the fun out of this, would it?"

"What have you done with Ace?" she demanded. "What do you want from us?" None of her limbs were bound, but her energy was drained and Dreamweaver was no where to be found; if it weren't for these handicaps, she would have broken free of the prison in a heartbeat.

Julian studied his nails in disinterest, and for some reason, it infuriated Shirley. "Answer me!" she shouted. She regretted it immediately after; she was suddenly out of breath and it almost hurt to breathe.

He lifted a dark eyebrow. "Ace? Oh, you mean that kid?" He ran a hand through his immaculate hair, sighing dramatically. "Oh, we've disposed of him. He was a nuisance. Ever so loud. And he's your subordinate? I pity you, dearest."

She scoffed. "There's no way," She said offhandedly. "That kid is way too wild for you to take care of. Besides, it's not like he meant anything to me."

Julian gave Shirley a sly smile. "Oh, really? Then you won't mind if I gave him to the _tennryuubito_? I hear they pay quite a price for human slaves nowadays down at Sabaody..."

Her breath caught in her throat. "You... you wouldn't..." It came out somewhere between a whisper and a plea, but she didn't really care what it was. He could call her pathetic for all it mattered and she could just sit there, letting the words sink in.

"You... how _dare _you?" She hissed. The drum in her chest beat erratically as she took shallow breaths. Her fists clenched in the dirt below her and something akin to rage welled up in her chest, culminating in a carnal scream. She threw herself against the bars that separated her from Julian and shook it in a frenzy, wearing out what little energy she had stored. "I _dare_ you to say it again. _I DARE YOU!_" She shrieked. Her eyes bulged and her hair was a mess and she was positive that she looked absolutely _frightening _at the moment but it didn't register in her mind. "Do you know what they do to those people? _Do you understand the hell they go through? _And you want to condemn a teenager who hasn't even seen the world... to _that?_" Shirley said venomously.

"You think you can get away with doing away with one of Whitebeard's sons?" She mumbled, slumping back down, exhausted from her little tirade. "You thought wrong. We will hunt you down until we get our revenge." Julian merely smirked at her before scoffing and dusting a bit of dust off his tuxedo – he was still wearing it? – and shrugged.

"I'll be waiting for you, Shirley. But may I remind you, _who_ was the one who taught you all you know about the ways of the sea? _Who_ was the one who taught you how to wield a sword? _Who_ was the one who saved you when you foolishly ran away from home and almost died from starvation due to your naivete? Just think about it, love." Cold fingers gently lifted her chin up so that his piercing eyes could meet her dull ones. "You can't defeat me, Shirley. Not the way you are now." And he walked away.

-x-

It had to have been at least an hour since Julian's visit. Shirley was currently sitting against the left wall, her knees up to her chest and hugging her legs, her chin resting atop her kneecaps. She stared at the ground impassively, not sure what to think anymore. He had to have been lying, she firmly told herself. He was lying. Ace is fine. He's fine. He's fine. He's fine. It became a mantra in her head, the only thing that prevented her from clawing her way through the bars (though in all reality, it would have been a futile effort as she was mostly useless without her sword).

This was stupid of her, really. To get so worked up over the (possible?) death of one... kid. But even though he was a kid, he was still part of her family, her _nakama._ And Julian was going to _pay._

By now, though, the words had numbed and she merely drew circles in the dirt with her finger, unthinking. Suddenly, her actions were disrupted by a few loud coughs followed by a groan somewhere outside her cell. Her curiosity piqued, she stood up and peered through the bars to try and find the source. It was then she noticed that there was another cell across from hers, similar in structure and size. A beaten-but-alive Ace gingerly stood up, wobbling on his legs like a newborn. He blinked his eyes blearily as he woke up, and Shirley thought that when she next screamed her lungs would be brought up along with her voice. _He was alive!_ And Julian had lied to her. Her heart rate sped up at the sight and elation filled her chest – at least he wasn't dead.

A thump. A snore. Well, at least his narcolepsy was still functioning properly. She didn't need to worry about that anymore.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, she reviewed her options. She could try and wake up Ace and think up an escape plan, but who knew how hard that would be? That kid could sleep like a rock once his narcolepsy took over. Plus, it was likely he was weaponless as well. Sure, Shirley had a considerable amount of strength – she _was_ 2nd Division Commander – but that was when she had Dreamweaver with her. She could try and break out of the cell, but she wasn't sure if she could handle breaking seastone without her sword...

After a few minutes of quiet deliberation, she finally settled on a choice. "Psst, kid! Ace!" She hissed through the bars. "Wake up!" No response.

She groaned. She should have known it would be futile. "Oi!" She attempted once more. "Kid! Brat! _Wake up!_" She whispered loudly. Still nothing. Shirley growled in frustration, kicking the bars. This was ridiculous! Just how deeply could someone sleep?

A rustle. Steps.

Shirley immediately quieted down after hearing the nearing thud of boots. Was it Julian again? Or maybe a sentinel sent to watch them? Whoever it was, it couldn't be good.

What she hadn't expected, though, was one of Christopher Rodriguez's servants.

It was a maid – or at least, she supposed it was. The thud she'd heard earlier was made by the heels of the brown leather knee-high boots she was wearing. The outfit she donned made it look like she was a mistress – or rather, a prostitute was probably more appropriate – than anything else. The black, scantily short, frilly skirt left little to imagination, and the tight lacy corset halter top left the poor woman's breasts bulging. How could she even breathe?

Shirley had seen her earlier, when all of Rodriguez's servants were scrambling about, looking for their master right before the blackout. Other than that, though, Shirley didn't think she really recognized the woman.

She was taller than Shirley, that was a given. Probably towering at a good 6'0 or somewhere close to it. The heels didn't help either, giving her an extra inch or two – so maybe she was actually 5'10 or 5'11? Well, it didn't really matter, because she was still more than a head taller than Shirley...

Wait, wait! Why was she having a height complex now? For all she knew, that woman could be here on orders from Julian to kill her or Ace!  
So Shirley braced herself at the back of her cell, standing up precariously with one hand on the wall for support, watching the woman warily as she stopped in front of the seastone bars.

"Who are you?" Shirley said sharply. "Who are you answering to? What orders are you under?"

The next thing she knew, something had clicked, reverberating against the stone walls, and the door that kept her locked in swung out, open.

Shirley knew better than to go rushing through the now-exit. For all she knew, a trap could be waiting right outside the moment she left her cell. So instead, she stayed put where she was, not moving an inch, and glared at the woman who was now staring at Shirley with a blank expression.

The maid – or mistress, whatever she was – had sharp features with keen hawk eyes, glinting gold in the dim light. Her pale blonde hair was tied in a braid down her back, meticulous and straight. She didn't seem to be holding a weapon.

"Well?" Came a cold voice. "What are you waiting for? It's not like I have all day." The woman had moved from Shirley's side to across the room, inserting a key into the lock on Ace's cell, and with a similar _click_ his door was freed as well. The impatient thumping of a foot against the floor signaled that perhaps this woman was most likely not here with altruistic intentions.

So, slowly, Shirley exited her prison, surveying her surroundings. They seemed to be in a rather large chamber, with a dome-shaped ceiling above them made of what looked like glass. Judging from the lack of light, Shirley assumed that it was night time.

Ace – that stupid brat – finally seemed to be stirring from his disorder-induced nap. Groggily, he sat up, groaning and blinking his eyes blearily. "Ah... shit," Ace said quietly, immediately realizing the situation he was in. Shirley's heart rate sped up at the sound of his voice, but she forced herself to calm down – it would do no good to get worked up over something so trivial. "Where are we?" He asked upon setting his eyes upon his Commander.

"Julian's personal prison," Shirley explained. "I don't remember hearing anything about this before during the debriefing on the ship, so it must have been kept hidden from the spies who were went to scout the area beforehand. Turning to the maid-woman, Shirley frowned, still on guard. "And you." She paused to allow Ace to stumble to her side. "You never answered the question. Just who are you, and why did you let us go?"  
The woman scoffed. "If you think I'm one of Julian's lackeys, you're much mistaken. I would never work for that man – he seems to have a perpetual stick up his ass, after all." Flipping her hair over her shoulder like some ill-trained model, she turned her smoldering eyes back onto the unlikely pair. "Now if you're done with your sappy reunion, can we please get going? We've set to put a Buster Call on this island in less than two hours."

Shirley's face paled. "W-...what?" She sputtered. "Buster Call? You're... _marines?_" She said helplessly.

"CP9." Came the woman's curt response. Her heels clicked against the floor as she made her way back to the staircase where she came from. "If you want to get out of here alive, I suggest you move your slow asses."

Shirley narrowed her eyes. "How do we know we can trust you?" She demanded. "You're a _marine, _after all. And we're pirates. Why are you even helping us?" The woman paused, placing a hand on the holster that sat on her hip and fingering the trigger, something that Shirley had overlooked earlier.

"Because," She said after a few moments of deliberation. "I might be part of the marines, but Whitebeard is the last man I'd want to make an enemy out of. Now hurry up before I lock you two down here."

-x-

As the trio ran up the stairs, Shirley bombarded the CP9 officer with questions. "What's your name?" She questioned. "And just where are you leading us?"

"You don't need to know," She responded curtly. "And we're going to get your weapons back. I've done my research, Shirley – you're quite the weakling without your precious Dreamweaver." Shirley flushed, embarrassed. Was she really known as such? "However, I have also heard rumors that you're rather fearsome _with_ your sword." That was more like it.

Ace, who had been uncharacteristically silent the whole time, finally spoke up. "What's a Buster Call?"

A heavy silence fell over them, and an awkward and pregnant pause ensued, the only sound being the clacks that their steps were making on the stone ground.

"It's Hell."

It was Shirley who stated it, not the marine, which Ace found curious. "It's the obliteration of an entire island, with its inhabitants along with it. No one is left alive. The only person who ever survived one... was Nico Robin."

The marine made an annoyed clicking sound with her tongue. "Don't remind me," She growled. "The fact that Aokiji let her escape was a stain on the marines' reputation. That woman has the power to destroy the whole world."

Shirley didn't say anything.

The trio stopped when they reached the top of the stairs, finding themselves in front of a wooden door, shut in what seemed like a hurry. The lock was undone and the area around the handle seemed damaged, as though someone had repeatedly kicked it in. The marine, opened it with ease, allowing her body to go shoulder-first into wherever the door led to.

It was a brightly-lit atrium, with an fluorescent lightbulbs illuminating the area hanging from the ceiling. It was a circular room, with paintings along the walls, depicting the various heads of the Rodriguez clan, including the recently-deceased Christopher Rodriguez himself. An empty frame with a tiny caption – _Romeo Rodriguez_ – was hanging next to Christopher's. Normally, Shirley wouldn't bother to even glance at the paintings as they were rather irrelevant at the moment, but the problem was that there were seven different exits next to each painting that most likely led to seven different places.

"Which way?" Shirley asked tersely, gritting her teeth and glaring at the marine. "We need to find our weapons _now._ I'm not leaving this place without Dreamweaver."

The marine rolled her eyes. "I know _that _much at least," She retorted smartly. "After all, if you're going to find your way out, it'd do for you two to have something to defend yourselves with – after all, we're going our separate ways soon."

"Wait, what?" Ace said, shocked. "You're leaving us? With no navigation?"

"Duh," She replied. "Even though I'm trying to help you guys get out of here, it doesn't mean I'm going to make sure you get off here safely. My kindness doesn't extend that far – just enough so that Whitebeard doesn't say we didn't at least _try _to save his children. As soon as you two get on your way to grab your weapons, I'm gone."

Shirley grabbed the woman's arm in fury. "But you didn't even tell us the way out! And there's a fucking _Buster Call_ set on this island!" She seethed.

The marine gave Shirley a sour look. "Well, isn't that too bad," She sneered. The woman pointed a long finger towards the 2nd passage from the right of Christopher Rodriguez's portrait. "If you follow that hall, you'll reach a door at the end. There's a password lock on it, but I'm sure _Shirley_ here will be able to figure it out quite easily." She said almost snidely. Shirley grimaced, but said nothing. "Your weapons are in there. From what I know, they aren't locked up in any way. Just grab them and go. You have approximately an hour and a half to find your way off this island before the marines come. Dunno what you'll do then," She once again flipped her hair over her shoulder in that irksome flirtatious way. "Good luck." With a swift tornado of wind encompassing her body, the woman disappeared.

Shirley cursed. "Shit!" She spat, stomping her foot on the ground in a rather childish manner. "And here I thought we could see where she went so we could follow her out. God damn it!" Letting out a strained sigh, Shirley shut her eyes tightly before forcing them open again, watching as the colors swam in front of her eyes as she readjusted to the light. "Okay, kid. Let's get going."

"Wait!" Ace said as Shirley began to briskly walk towards the hall the marine had pointed out earlier. He was taken aback when Shirley whipped her head around to face him, giving him one of the most terrifying looks he had ever seen.

"_What?_" She said vehemently. "Just _what_ the hell do you think you're waiting for, _brat?_" She hissed.

Unsure, he took a step forward towards his commanding officer. "I just... I mean, shouldn't we try and warn the other people on the island?"

Shirley let out a mirthless laugh. "Warn them? Those prissy ass people?" She put a hand on her hip, facing him. "Ace, kid. If there's one thing you have to learn when you deal with pirates is rule #1: you save your own ass and your nakama's ass before anyone else. Got it? Civilians and the like are not on our priority list. All I'm focused on is getting you and me out of here before this godforsaken island is blown up." Without another word, his commander ran down the hall, and Ace, not wanting to be left behind, followed shortly.

The hall was eerily bare, the walls painted a solid lime green – it reminded Ace of Shirley's dress that she wore to the ball the other night, he noted absently. There were no statues, no vases, no paintings. It was rather eerie, to be honest. The floor was checkered in black and white like a chess board, and for some reason he felt like... this was all just a game of chess...

Ace heard something that sounded suspiciously like _shit_ coming from his superior and was slightly surprised to realize that they had already reached the end of the hallway, where another hefty door stood in their way. Ace didn't need to worry, though – Shirley was already picking at the lock like a skilled thief. Within a few seconds, the lock clicked open and the door swung forward easily.

The teenager was impressed. "How did you figure it out so quickly?" He asked Shirley. She gave him a condescending look before rolling her eyes.

"'Don't needa tell you," She grunted. Sure enough, at the far end of the room was Ace's belt with his dagger and various other tools, leaning contentedly against Dreamweaver like a child with its mother. Shirley snatched up her sword without another word and latched it back onto her waist while Ace fumbled to reattach his belt.

Suddenly the ground beneath them started to shake violently, and the ceilings began to crack, small chunks of cement and debris falling around the room. "Shit!" Shirley cursed. Grabbing hold of Ace's wrist, she yanked him along with her as she began sprinting out the way they came. "We have to get out of here fast, before the whole damn thing collapses..." She muttered under her breath. And although Ace had no problem keeping up with her, he felt his pulse race for some reason. His breath came in short inhalations and he suddenly found the air somewhat thicker and began to have difficulties breathing – and was the room getting hotter, or was it just him?

After entering back into the expanse that was the atrium, Shirley let out a frustrated sigh. "Which way now?" She muttered to herself, eyes darting back and forth between possible passages. Obviously, the way they had just came was ruled out as an exit. That left 6 choices. She had about a 17% chance of choosing the right path to the outside. Or...

"Stand back," Shirley commanded as she drew out Dreamweaver, the blade glinting in the light. Ace's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Wait, you're not _really_ going to-" But he was cut off by a swing of her sword and a hole in the wall appearing. More rubbish accumulated around them as the remains of the wall crashed to the ground, and Ace had his eyes shielded with his right arm. Squinting in the dust, he vaguely made out Shirley whipping Dreamweaver back down to her side before re-sheathing her sword.

"Let's go," Shirley said sharply, stepping over the chunks of stone and cement. Ace then noted that on her right ankle, something stuck out above her boot, glued to her skin, a dark contrast to her pale pigmentation. He then recalled the conversation they'd held before the ball.

_"...as a Commander, we're mandated to have at least two on our body, one of which must be large enough for enemies to see." _Ah. So that's where her other Whitebeard tattoo was... the ankle? That must have been painful; he'd heard that the foot was one of the most sensitive parts of the body to tattoo, since it was so close to the bone, but he'd never tried, so he couldn't really be sure.

On the other side of the wall seemed to be a sitting room the size of a small house. Lined up in the middle was a long rectangular table that could probably seat somewhere between 20 and 40 people for a banquet. Places weren't set, but a royal violet tablecloth covered the length of the table. An intricate crystal chandelier hung above their heads precariously, swinging back and forth from the destruction Shirley had just wreaked upon the wall now behind them. Luckily, there was a table on the other side of the room that most likely led to the outside, so Shirley took the initiative to run, jump over the table (it was faster than running around), and yank on the handle, which opened easily.

Outside of the door was a large hallway, and directly in front of them was a set of double staircases on either side of them, winding downwards which led into what seemed like the entrance to the mansion, as at the bottom were a pair of elaborate double doors as well as windows on either side of the door giving a glimpse of the outside. It was still dark, so Shirley couldn't see much of the outside.

Ace grinned. "Yes! Finally, a door!" He ran up to it, grabbing hold of the handle.

"Wait!" Shirley shouted. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and dread filled her senses. "We don't know what's on the other side of that door—"

A familiar face, a shock of block hair, and an exposed chest with her captain's insignia. "...Marco?"

-_end of chapter X._

A/N: ...This chapter... took me almost eight months to complete... ha. I am such a failure of a writer. Sorry for the cliffhanger at the end – hopefully it'll keep you guys reading! Thank you so much for putting up with my lack of updates, and I hope to update _Eye of the Storm_ a lot more in 2012! Look forward to it! Please review!


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